


our choices seal our fate

by lavenderskii



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Blue Sonder (Video Blogging RPF), Amnesia, Angels, Angst, Attempted Murder, BAMF Niki | Nihachu, Betrayal, Blindness, Blood and Injury, Blue Sonder AU, Burns, Demons, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, Family Dynamics, Found Family, Gen, Gremlin TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Magic, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Shapeshifting, Technoblade Hears Voices (Video Blogging RPF), They/Them Pronouns for Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit Friendship, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wings, Witchcraft, already said this in the notes but i want to make it clear, also i promise this isn't as dark as the tags make it seem, sleepy bois inc - Freeform, this is NOT about the cc's it is about their dream smp characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:06:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28947879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderskii/pseuds/lavenderskii
Summary: The world of demons, angels and mythical beings is a vast one. In its three realms, everything interconnects.Wilbur and Techno have fled the Demon Throne, though the voices continue to haunt Techno, no matter where they run. Dream and Sapnap now hunger for revenge against them, and George is eager to assist them. Philza is the last of his kind, a guardian of the forest and willing to open his home to any being. Tommy, despite being a demon, wakes up on Earth, alone and missing his memory. Eret and Tubbo are angels, who make a irreversible mistake that may cost them their lives. Niki must make a choice between everything she had pledged to abide by and saving her family. Fundy wanders the land, in search of food, shelter, and most of all, a family.As they begin to grow closer and closer within view of one another, how will their paths intertwine? In bloodshed and tears, or in security and family?AKA: My own take on the Blue Sonder AU by @chewwypepsicola on Twitter.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Eret & Floris | Fundy & Niki | Nihachu & Toby Smith | Tubbo, No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 14
Kudos: 103





	1. Survival

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, lots to address so PLEASE READ THIS! :)
> 
> Firstly, this is a fanfic based entirely off of the wonderful AU created by @chewwypepsicola on Twitter! You should go check them out alongside all the fan art, comics and characters designs in the AU. As far as I'm aware they're alright with fanfic being made of their AU. There will be events in this fic that are taken directly from the canon of that AU, and there will be others that are entirely my own.
> 
> Secondly, this fic is entirely written with the thought in mind that these are not the real people, but rather the characters they play on the SMP! HOWEVER: Since the characters and the cc's are very linked together, and I understand that and I'm obviously going to respect any boundaries of the cc's, such as no shipping. This fic does feature lots of violence, which considering the violent events that occur in the DreamSMP role-play, I feel is okay to write. If at any point at all, the violence in this fic seems to be crossing a line, PLEASE let me know. 
> 
> Also the summary is a bit of the work in progress, not to mention the fact that I'm generally an indecisive person, so don't be surprised if it changes from time to time.
> 
> With that out of the way, I hope you enjoy!

Hell was an unforgiving place. It was a fact that every demon knew, a piece of knowledge known from the moment you crawled out from the cliff walls and breathed in the hot air, tainted by the smell of blood, of burned flesh and ash.

To survive, you had to be merciless. You had to seize opportunity by the horns and never once allow yourself to let go. 

Luckily for Techno, he was just that. Like the rest of his kind, he entered Hell determined to persevere and subsist. Unlike the rest of them, he actually managed to do so. He carved his path with crimson hands, stained by both the blood of his opponents and his own. Weakness was not allowed in Hell, so he became stronger by necessity, sharpening his skills until he could participate in an arena. 

He was young and still unknown. He entered the arena ready to leave his mark, and he did. He left it in the form of cheers and yells, and bellows from the demons in the audience; as they watched him stand above his opponent, triumphant as his blood spilled from his arms, falling onto the limp demon under him, burning their skin and leaving it red and blistered as they screeched in pain. He continued to win fights, patching up the wounds left behind from using his acidic blood. His name was beginning to spread, and rumors were starting to be heard in the settlements of Hell. 

He traversed the land, crossing seas of lava, lakes of sulfur, towns, and cities where demons traded and conversed with the expected amount of distrust and bloodshed. He saw fields of soot-stained grasses and forests with shadowed trees. Years had passed since that first fateful match. Technoblade was older, though still young for a demon. His pink hair had reached his shoulders, now tied it back in a ponytail. His gray horns had grown, similarly with the curly pink tail he had. He had gained numerous scars, grown taller, more experienced, and most importantly, he became stronger. He no longer used his acidic blood carelessly but instead with technique and precision, much like the blade he had strapped around his waist, taken from an opponent he had beaten not long after he first entered that arena. 

It was a slow day. Technoblade had set up camp next to a river in the desolate and darkened forest he was navigating. The trees were charred and the color of coal, the branches brittle, and the ground covered in a variety of faintly glowing plants and fungus. Overall, not the worst place in Hell that Technoblade had seen. Nothing worthwhile either though.

As far as he knew, he was alone, left to his thoughts and the motions of a blade leaving deep gauge marks into dark tree bark as he practiced his sword skills. He fell into a rhythm, the constant noise of the blade slicing through the tree lulling him into his mind and his thoughts. Isolated and alone, a moment to breathe in the fast-paced world he was a part of. He snapped back to reality by the sound of a branch snapping and turned around behind him to the sight of another demon, red horns, and brown hair, dressed in a faded golden sweater and a muted brownish-grey trench coat that was clearly much too large for him. Their eyes were wide, and among the mixture of emotions that swirled around in them, he caught a flash of irritation. 

The other demon looked to be around the same age as him and landed into a neat crouch after blinking into existence a few feet off the ground. They stared at each other blankly, awaiting a reaction from the other. Who would make the first move? The initial strike that would give them the advantage in the battle, the action that would mark the ground with the first bloodstain of their clash. 

“You stepped on a branch,” Techno remarked in a monotone voice. Then Techno gripped his sword a little tighter and gave chase to the other demon. Said demon was just as swift in flashing him a smirk, and immediately darting forward and snatching one of the satchels, coincidentally the one with most of his valuables, and teleporting once again, farther ahead. Technoblade scowled. 

He picked up the pace, launching himself over fallen branches and inclines in the ground. He noticed with a spark of satisfaction that he was already getting much closer to the thief, even with the teleportation they were using in an attempt to get farther away. He didn’t know what the other demon’s limits were with that ability, but gods was it an irritating one. _Useful,_ he thought to himself. A valuable power to have on his side. Technoblade didn’t pause in his pursuit, but his mind began to plan. 

And so he led the demon to where he knew he could corner him. The teleportation had slowed down, and the distance traveled with each use smaller. 

He must have begun to reach his limit, he noted to himself. _Perfect._ He twisted into a sharp turn, cutting the other boy off, who teleported again, ten feet away. Techno was close enough and paying enough attention to notice the details now, how the moment the boy teleported, his body began to emit strange particles, reminding Techno almost of visual static. The same visual static that would appear in the area he teleported to, signaling his destination. 

Techno scanned the area, leaping onto a tree and desperately begging in his mind for the tree, withered as it was to hold his weight. By some miracle it was, and he made his way across in seconds, propelling himself through the air. The wind picked up as he let himself fall to the ground, and he pulled himself into a roll and crouch to negate the damage. The other demon had noticed him now and was scrambling across the terrain in a vain attempt to secure his escape. Within no time at all, Technoblade had cornered him between a wall and himself.

 _The forest certainly became handy,_ he thought to himself. 

He pointed his sword at the other. It was clear who held the power now. He would just have to hope the other demon wasn’t an idiot and could recognize it.

“Hand over my stuff, now.”

\----------------

Wilbur thought he was having a good day. He had been wandering down the river he had traveled beside for days, ever since he had to run away from that shopping center he had been stealthily...borrowing from for the last month. Unfortunately, as he had been caught pickpocketing a much older demon, he had been forced to flee. So Wilbur meandered down the lava flow, in search of...well anyone really. He wasn’t picky. A warm meal here, a bag of coins there, even the jacket he wore now, a trenchcoat much too large for him at the moment, had been the product of his burglary. Anything that could help him survive.

All in all, Wilbur considered himself to be a pretty good thief. 

His ability to teleport also gave him quite an advantage. He simply picked a target, teleported, grabbed what he needed before they could react, and teleported away once more. It was quite rare for anyone to be able to catch him once he began to flee. It had happened before, Wilbur would admit, but rarely enough for him to be surprised when it did. 

So when he spotted a campsite in the distance, he smiled to himself, before teleporting. He landed in the branches of a tree, close enough to watch the demon swing the sword into a tree, countless scars already left in its bark.

_I should really try to avoid being on the end of that blade. _Wilbur nervously thought. Narrowing his eyes, he focused his attention on the campsite. Best to plan while the other demon still hadn’t noticed his presence. The encampment was simple, and obviously a short-term setup. A tent had been built, and a large satchel was leaning against it. A few smaller bags were scattered around it as well, closer to the small pit Wilbur assumed was where a fire was meant to go. A faint shine and glimpse of gold caught Wilbur’s eyes.__

____

_Bullseye._ Wilbur thought with vindication. He crept along the tree branch, closer to the demon, still unaware of his appearance. Ears pricked to catch any noises that could give away his presence, Wilbur focused and teleported, appearing into existence once more just a few steps away from the coin-filled pouch. It was larger than Wilbur originally thought, now that he could see it clearer. This guy was likely an arena fighter. He inched closer to the goods, keeping his eyes on the pink-haired demon. Closer...closer... _Snap!_

____

Wilbur snatched his attention to his feet, where the source of the noise, a stick lay splintered under his foot. 

____

_Shit._

____

And with that eloquent thought, Wilbur was forced to confront the demon, who was staring at him with bright scarlet eyes. Wilbur wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, but this was a demon who knew how to fight, and the better he managed to flee the situation he had gotten himself into the better. Preferably with the coin pouch, but Wilbur understood well that sometimes sacrifices were necessary. 

____

Then the other demon spoke. 

____

“You stepped on a branch.”

____

Was this situation for real? Wilbur didn’t have much time to consider the audacity of the events playing out before him, because instantaneously the other demon was sprinting towards him, weapon by his side and a clawed hand held out in preparation. For what, Wilbur didn’t know, but he didn’t want to find out. So he gave the boy a grin and spun around, grabbed the bag, and teleported away. 

____

He needed to be smart about this. Too many teleportations would cause his ability inaccessible due to overuse, and leave him dizzy and vulnerable. So he alternated, dashing across the forest ground, barren beside the eerie glowing fungus, fallen branches, and overgrown tree roots that emerged from the ground in the most inconvenient of places, only to teleport further away to catch his breath, spare a glance over his shoulder to check whether or not his pursuer was still following, and continue running.

____

He teleported further away, clutching at his sides as he panted, sucking in deep heaving gasps of air. Wilbur looked up and cursed softly. A dead end. He had reached a cliff, little to no footholds in his sight. At the very least, he seemed to have shaken off the other demon for a minute. 

____

And then his ears recognized the sound of the wind as weight plummeted towards the ground, the aforementioned demon fell ahead of him, having vaulted himself from the top of a tree. Wilbur turned to run in another direction but hardly made any leeway before he fell back and a blade was pointed at his chest. Perhaps they could be reasoned with? Wilbur did have a way with words, could some higher being grant him enough luck to persuade the other demon to spare his life? He knew how bad this was. An acuate blade aimed at his chest, a pissed off demon, stolen goods still touched tightly in his hands, and not to mention him, defenseless and on the ground. He would just have to hope for the best, bullshit his way out of this one. 

____

“Hand over my stuff, now.” He said it in a voice that demanded him to even dare argue against the statement, inviting him to with a promise of pain. 

____

So Wilbur hesitantly pushed himself back onto his feet, stepping backward to secure some distance between him and the sword. He bitterly proceeded to throw the bag at the other demon's feet with no hint of grace and carefulness as he watched a handful of coins tumble out of the cloth pouch. The other demon stared at him with near-emotionless red eyes, besides the ever-lingering threat of harm if he stepped even a toe out of line. Wilbur watched in barely concealed anger and irritation as the other picked up the bag, collected the fallen coins, and hefted the sword over his shoulder. He looked back at Wilbur, before strangely enough, tilting his head towards the direction of the campsite. Then he walked forward a bit before turning back with a face of boredom. 

____

“I don’t have all day you know, hurry up.” 

____

Now, Wilbur was just nonplussed. But he wasn’t about to argue with the enraged demon with a sword, who he now realized, he didn't even know the ability of. Strange, but once again, he wasn’t about to pester him and invite an even greater possibility of his demise. So he followed, cautious and confused as they reached the campsite again. The pink-haired demon struck a match and tossed it into the kindling, carefully adjusting the burning branches as the fire slowly burned, illuminating the overcast area. Wilbur sat down, watching as the demon brought out some meat from a pack, and began to roast it on a spit. He was suddenly aware of his hunger. Teleporting had certainly taken a lot out of him, and he hadn’t eaten since yesterday, when he stole a strange fruit from another demon’s vending stand, briefly before the pickpocketing failure that inadvertently led to this situation. 

____

Was the demon about to torture him by forcing him to watch as he ate and Wilbur starved? Wilbur knew that some demons were more bloodthirsty and sadistic than others, but he hadn’t received that sort of energy from him earlier. What in the world was going on? All he had wanted to do was some light stealing, why was he making this so much more annoying for the both of them than it needed to be? 

____

They sat there in uncomfortable silence for a while, the only sounds echoing through the desolate forest being the crackling of the fire, and the other demon slowly turning the stake as the meat cooked. Wilbur had been beginning to calculate how much longer he would have to wait until using his teleportation was safe enough to use when the other demon served him some of the meat. His eyes widened in surprise and looked up at the other demon. 

____

“Let’s eat, and talk afterward.” Wilbur barely held back a remark on how the other didn't speak all that much but refrained, and they both ate in silence. Wilbur’s red tail unconsciously waved from side to side, revealing his anxiety, though it was thankfully a minute enough actually that the log he was sitting on managed to conceal it from the other demon. 

____

Said demon had finished and gone back to staring at Wilbur unnervingly. Eventually, he spoke, much to Wilbur’s relief. 

____

“Look,” he began. “In the end, I could have killed you back there, and gone along my way without issue. I have no qualms about spilling blood. But I didn’t.” 

____

_No shit. Get to the bloody point already won’t you…_ Wilbur thought. 

____

“Listen, you have a strong ability. I want you to join me. I’m traveling to the Central Arena.” At this, Wilbur felt himself becoming more and more intrigued. The Central Arena was only for fighters who had proved themselves as a champion fighter, reaching the top fighting spot of an area and keeping it for at least ten straight nights. It wasn’t the highest and most prestigious arena, but it was well known as a place for incredibly talented fighters. So Wilbur chose his words carefully. 

____

“Why do you want me to join you? I might have a strong power sure, but you haven't explained what that would help you with.”

____

He didn’t bother mentioning that there was nothing to bind his loyalty to him. They already knew.

____

“It’s simple really, I just think that it would be mutually beneficial for us. You gain safe travel and food with me since I earn from the competitions I win, meanwhile, I can spar with someone and have a demon who can teleport. It’s an ability applicable to too many scenarios to list them out.”

____

Wilbur contemplated the other's words, it was true, and in the end, it seemed more beneficial to him. So reciprocated the stare and held out his hand. 

____

“The name’s Wilbur.” The other demon smirked before reaching out his hand. 

____

“Technoblade. I’m sure this is the beginning of a wonderful partnership.”

____


	2. Companion

Fighting was at the core of a demon's being. It was instinct, a developed response out of survival. So are arenas began to be constructed, hundreds of years ago. Some of the first places where fighting began to be organized and exemplary, rather than brawling with whoever crossed your path on the journey to battle the king. Arena’s eliminated the weak and gave the strong a chance to secure not only victory and renown but a clearer path to the Demon King’s throne. So these arenas began to spread, and with them, the first settlements of Hell. Places where demons congregated not only to fight or spectate battles, but also to sell and trade various goods, or pleasure themselves with food or drinks. And so cities came to be, each wIth an Arena at the heart of it. 

They had only begun to travel alongside each other for a week before they encountered one of these cities. And it would be in this city that they truly began to trust one another. 

\----------------

It took a bit of getting used to, Techno would admit. Going from both traveling alone and living vastly different lives, to living side by side as they traveled across the wide domain of the underworld was quite a change. The first week consisted of minimal and stilted interactions, which was, Techno would admit, quite awkward. 

Their days would pass relatively the same. They woke up, ate, and traveled. On occasion, Wilbur or Techno would spot some irregularity in the distance, and have Wilbur teleport ahead to get a closer look, or Techno would spot some creature that he would quickly pause their travel to hunt down and secure their dinner, but beyond that, it was simply walking until they found a good campsite. 

They finally reached a city when they reached a canyon, the settlements nestled into the bottom and in the canyon walls. They luckily located a pathway leading down to the valley, and it didn’t take them long until they were at the bottom. 

Wilbur shifted the position of the satchel he had slung over his shoulder to ease the ache growing in that spot. He looked just ahead at Techno, who carried the other satchel. Techno flung over the same bag of coins he had attempted to steal previously. Wilbur hardly fumbled with it as he caught it in his hands. It was lighter than before, the pink-haired demon likely having relocated some of the coins into a separate pouch. 

“I’ll be going to the arena. But we’ll need to head to the marketplace as well. Can I trust you to head over there and get us some food and better traveling supplies?” 

Wilbur shrugged as he responded. “Sure.”

Techno nodded in recognition, before adding on.

“Let’s meet up again near the bell tower to the east, alright?” The demon didn’t wait for a response before he began walking away. Wilbur rolled his eyes. 

He moved through the masses of demons, making his way towards the marketplace, finding it significantly more populated than the streets of the city. It was a bit strange, being able to purchase goods, rather than stealing them, or using stolen coins. 

He was nearly finished with his shopping, tucking away a new sleeping roll into a backpack he bought earlier on when he spotted it. An instrument he recognized from long ago when he was a mere toddler of a demon. A guitar, still fairly clean and clear of soot and ash stains. It looked like a product from Earth, with gleaming brown wood that shined in the light. He wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case, as the majority of instruments made in the underworld consisted of brass, trumpets, and horns and percussion. He walked closer, mesmerized by the instrument. He longed to pluck at the strings once more, to hear the beautiful sounds produced by the cords reverberate through the air. 

He looked through the remainder of money buried in his pouch. And made his way to the vendor, an older demon, though considering the short lifespan of most demons, he wasn’t sure whether that term was accurate. They were staring at him with flinty eyes, evidently having seen his interest. Wilbur pulled himself together. He wasn’t about to be swindled and taken advantage of by some merchant who thought they could scam him. 

“The guitar caught your eye, hasn’t it.” The vendor’s voice was gravelly, and Wilbur spotted old scars circling the demon's throat. Wilbur nodded, deciding to get more of a grasp on the demon, fool him into seeing him as nothing but a possible con, before leaping at him with his teeth bared, and persuasive words on the tip of his tongue. 

“Yes, yes, real beauty isn’t she? Not a common instrument to find down here I’ll be sure to tell you that.” He gloated. 

“Really?” 

“Yes, yes indeed! Why the lengths it took for me to get my hands on it, it’s quite a hefty price to pay. But of course, you’ll be interested in what I have to say won’t you?”

_There._ Wilbur had him in his claws now. 

“That’s so strange,” he began to say, watching in hidden delight as the demon’s face transformed into something confused and irked. “Because I was passing through another town the other day, searching for a guitar, when the vendor there said it was so common, they sold out earlier, since they sold at the drop of some silver.” 

Instantly, the vendor’s face turned red. He didn’t have a single clue to how Wilbur was stringing him along, blatantly lying about an interaction with another demon. 

“In fact, they said that if someone said something along the lines of how hefty the price was, I’d be getting conned…” He dropped his voice down to a deep, ominous undertone.

“You wouldn’t happen to be doing, that would you?” 

The vendor’s face paled, before turning a nasty red, Wilbur noted in satisfaction. 

“Here’s the deal, pal, I’ll hand over…” He fumbled around the pouch, before pulling out just over a handful of golden coins, a majority of the coins in his pouch, though a fair among remained jingling at the bottom. It was more than he wanted to part with, but any less and this wouldn’t work. He dumps them onto the wooden surface of the stall, going back to staring at the demon, who now watchs in apprehension. 

“This much. You’ll hand over that pretty little guitar over there, and I’ll go on with my life, same with you,” His eyes narrow, and he fills them with threat and malice. Really, Wilbur felt as though he could give Techno a run for his money with the glare he had focused on the vendor now. 

“And if you don’t, I’ll spread the word that your little set-up here is nothing but a sham. Prices higher than reasonable, and the goods...subpar. Do we have an understanding?” 

The vendor gritted his teeth, before harshly pulling the coins towards himself and reaching up to hand over the guitar to Wilbur. Wilbur held the guitar in his hands carefully, gripping it tightly. He smiled smugly at the vendor, who had begun to glower at him. 

“Pleasure doing business with you.” 

He spends a few of the remaining coins buying a strap to attach to the guitar, finding a sturdy one near the edges of the marketplace. It’s made of some sort of hide and flawlessly attaches to the guitar. Overall Wilbur’s enjoying himself. He’s navigating the town now, listening as the chimes of the bell tower, signal the pass of another hour. He’s contemplating whether or not now would be the best time to leave Techno’s side and wander off when he feels the sensation of eyes crawling on his back. 

He’s being watched, and whoever it is does not carry good intent. Wilbur schools his face into something blank and makes sure to measure his pace. Not too fast, not too slow. He spots the street curve, a perfect place to teleport away without alerting his pursuers to the fact that he’s aware of them. _Almost there…_

He turns the corner, and he teleports away. He’s a few streets ahead now, his back pressed against the wall of a dingy alleyway. He sneaks a look back, and catches a glimpse of two demons, angrily scanning the area. 

Their faces tug at the back of his mind, and he realizes that he recognizes them. Because he stole from them not too long ago, snarkily yelling back taunts as he teleported away after stealing the pouches of coins in the corner of their stall. To be fair, if they didn’t want them stolen, they should’ve taken better care of them. He reasons. Not my fault they didn’t keep an eye out for thieves. 

He teleports away again, onto the roof of a nearby building. They probe the streets, scrutinizing the shadowy alleyways and passersby as Wilbur watches from above. One of them begins to scan the rooftops, and he ducks down, hoping he won’t be spotted. He sits there for what seems like an eternity, uncomfortably aware of the goods being squashed underneath him— _oh that guitar better still be in a good condition once this is over——_ as he holds his breath, before peeking out from behind the incline of stone shingles forming the roof. Both of the demons are staring at him. Then, almost as if in synch, they sprint towards him, the sound of their yelling growing in volume as they approach. 

“Damnit!” Wilbur mutters under his breath. He teleports off the roof and a couple of streets ahead. He runs, trying to shake them loose, but every time he looks behind, they consistently appear, relentlessly prowling, claws sharp and eyes flinty. He began to step into a run, dodging in between other demons as he made his way throughout the city. At one point he notices the arena across the street, the cheers and shouts echoing from inside the large coliseum. But he doesn’t stop to inspect it, as in that moment his attention is brought to the loud and furious outcry from behind him. 

In his haste to get away, he stumbles upon his own feet, dashing across pathways and shoving aside demons in his way. He teleports too many times to count, doubling backward, onto rooftops, behind corners to catch his breath. But eventually, he spots a small alleyway, and rushes into it, ready to continue running through the other end...only to find himself facing a dingy blackstone brick wall. The thumping sound of footsteps forces him to turn around, giving him a full view of two very pissed-off demons.

“Hey fellas, I don’t suppose you’d be willing to talk out whatever it is you’re angry about?” He tries, pushing some of his curly fallen hair out of his face. One of the demons, the shorter one armed with claws that look way too sharp not to be connected to his ability, simply snarls in response. 

The other, a lanky demon with deep cobalt horns that curled around his head, and a face marred with scars, steps forward, pushing Wilbur towards the wall until he has nowhere to run. He feels his feet lose touch with the ground as the other demon lifts him by his trenchcoat, his worn, stupidly large trench coat that’s preventing his escape. Wilbur pushes and struggles against the hands holding him in the air to no avail. He’s being shaken and thrown to the ground, and oh crap that hurts he thinks as he’s kicked to the ground. 

“You thought you could get away with fucking with us, didn’t you?” The demon thunders. 

“You know how much of a pain it was to recover that gold? You fucked up big time this time—”

“What’s going on here?” A familiar monotone voice cuts through the air. Wilbur opens his eyes, moving down his arms from where he held them up to protect his face (though the warm liquid tasting of copper that spills from his nose is evidence enough that he’s failed) to spot, in the opening of the alleyway, Technoblade. The demon still carries his blade, but its blood-stained, and new bandages cover his arms and face. His pink hair is tied back in a ponytail, and his red eyes are filled with that oh-so-familiar look of boredom yet threat. Wilbur watches as the jaw of the demon who had been standing back before drops to the floor. 

“Y-y-you’re Tec-Technoblade!” He stutters out. Immediately the other demon snaps to attention, his face a similar visage of shock. Techno looks unbothered, or more accurately, uninterested. 

“That would be correct, yes.” 

The demon in the middle of beating Wilbur to a pulp speaks up this time. 

“What does Technoblade have to do with this cheat here? Go back to your arena fighting and let us handle our business, pal.” His voice is dripping with venom and his friend looks at him with alarm, but he continues to stare Technoblade down in defiance. 

“Well, you are currently beating up my...traveling partner here in a dark alleyway. I could be on my way if you could let him go, I did have him go do the shopping for our travels and you’re kinda in the way of our leaving.”  


“Your friend—”

“We’re not friends.” Both Techno and Wilbur say together. The demon is becoming consistently redder, blood rushing to his face as his anger builds. Wilbur feels the pain in his chest increase as the demon increases the pressure of his foot. 

“Your _whatever_ , I don’t give a damn what your relationship is! Your traveling partner here is a stealing piece of shit who’s about to get what’s coming to him!” Techno sighs at this like he isn’t exactly sure what he expected. Personally, Wilbur thinks the guy is pretty predictable, but maybe Techno just was hoping for the guy to give it up. 

And then like a flash, Techno darted forward, holding that bloodied sword up against the throat of the demon’s friend. His other arm keeps the hostage's arms pinned behind his back, preventing any damage from his claws, and possible escape attempts. 

“Let him go, or I’ll slit his throat.” 

Both demons stare at each other, and the air is still but the tension thick and hot. Techno appears to grow bored of the waiting game, however and presses his sword deeper into the demon's neck, a thin line of blood appearing, and a single drop of crimson spilling down. The demon whimpers quietly and stares at his friend, who grits his teeth. 

And then the foot on his chest pinning him to the ground is lifted, and Wilbur apprehensively pushes himself to his feet. It isn’t until Wilbur is properly at Techno’s side that Techno lets the demon go. The poor bloke crumples to the ground clutching their throat as they join their friend in staring at Technoblade and Will, one in fear and the other in bitterness.

Wordlessly, Techno exits the alleyway, and Wilbur follows brushing dust and grime from his guitar as they walk. He wipes his face clean of the blood still gushing from his nose. He’s still in shock at the whole situation. He had fully expected Techno to deem him not worth the trouble, maybe even see the guitar (that guitar better not have been damaged or Wilbur will truly go mad) and decide to watch as he gets kicked around. Nowhere in his mind did he even consider that the demon would come to his aid. 

_Maybe I’ll stick around a little longer…_ Then, for the first time since they split up earlier, Techno speaks directly to him. 

“You’re a very good thief, are you.”

_Nevermind, what the hell._ Wilbur holds back an offended noise from escaping his throat for his own dignity, but he doesn’t stop himself from very pointedly giving the other young demon a heated glare. 

“Oh shut up.” He mutters in petulance, and Techno gives him that signature single-eyebrow-raise of his but doesn’t offer a retort. Even still, they leave the city and Wilbur feels as though despite how stupid of a decision it may turn out to be, he can trust Techno a bit more than before.

\----------------

It’s the morning after Techno stumbled across Wilbur being beaten bloody in the alleyway, though it was less stumble and more watch in silent bewilderment as he exited the arena and saw Wilbur being chased by two demons. The pink-haired demon wakes up with a yawn, combing through his pink locks with his hands and tying it into a messy ponytail, simply to get it out of the way. It’s only then that he notices that he is in fact, not the first one awake. Rather, Wilbur sits just a little ways off, trench coat abandoned and leaving him only in a yellow sweater. 

The thief sits on a log, and the sound of musical chords fills the calescent air. Techno stands up and moves closer, sitting down on a stone next to him. Now that he’s closer he can see Wilbur is humming a tune, tugging at the instrument strings to match the melody. It’s soft and strangely peaceful, and Techno finds himself mesmerized. Wilbur opens his eyes, and as if coming out of a trance, notices Techno sitting there, listening to the music. 

He appears caught off guard for a moment, and Techno feels as though he’s interrupted something, but then Wilbur gives him the smallest of smiles. It’s the first time a genuine smile has appeared on his face, Techno having only been on the receiving end of a few cocky smirks and bitter or nervous smiles. It’s nice, he decides, as Wilbur goes back to strumming the guitar, having a traveling partner. 

Even if they do manage to get themselves into an absolutely mind boggling amount of chases.

\----------------

A few months have passed since that quiet morning. Wilbur stands leaning against the wall of an arena, watching as Techno battles his fourth opponent of the night. The air is filled with the shouts and cheers of engaged audience members, faintly heard whispers cheering on those having been bet on, the smell of blood, sweat, and smoke having made it’s home in the stadium. Wilbur is surprised he even hears it over the commotion, but as he’s watching Techno slash a mark across his hand, smearing acidic blood against the back of the opposing demon, he catches wind of voices murmuring behind him. 

“—getting too big, too cocky.”

“Someone ought to put him in his place. We've been working towards this arena spot for years now, and he thinks he can just come grab it and leave?”

“Say what, I bet I’d be easy to go snatch that sword of his, replace it with something that’ll guarantee his failure.” 

“...perhaps you do have the occasional good idea. Let’s get to work.” 

Wilbur has caught on by now, feigning deafness to their conversation and focus on the battle. But he heard plenty. They’re walking away towards the staircase down to the main floor when Wilbur catches a glance at them. A man and a woman, the woman with long braided hair and a tail with a barbed end. The man darker-skinned and with horns that appear almost metallic and silver. They make their way down, and Wilbur follows behind silently, making sure to stick to shadows as he attempts to stay in earshot. 

“I can forge the blade, easy, but are you sure you can get it poisoned, Samara?” The man questions the woman, Samara, with thinly veiled doubt. Samara scowls.

“You worry about your task, I’ll worry about mine. Let’s just sabotage this, and remove another competitor.” 

Wilbur narrows his eyes. The two demons part ways, and Wilbur listens as the echo of their footsteps dims down, before teleporting away onto the ceiling pillars of the hallway Samara went through. He watches in silence as she wanders through the corridors of the arena. The area is empty, demons having migrated to watch the various battles. Eventually, Wilbur teleports ahead again, sinking into the shadows as Samara stops. The demon enters a small room, near the entrance to the competitor's prep rooms. Wilbur only recognizes them because he went with Techno earlier before leaving to watch from the audience. 

He leaves the corner he was hiding in and approaches the door. Then, before he can second guess himself, he enters the room, coming face to face with an irritated Samara. He plans on stretching out the encounter, buying time, but he doesn’t get a chance. Immediately his face to face with a rapidly approaching barbed tail. Poisonous barbed tail, actually, as if he needs the situation to get any worse. He teleports away just as the tail reaches him, appearing behind the woman. She snarls, and he’s forced to teleport, again and again, as he is caught in a deadly game of tag. 

_I can’t keep this up forever!_ Wilbur thinks to himself, as he ducks beneath a blow aimed for his head. He teleports away, once, twice, three times in rapid succession, hoping to disorient the demon. It fails, as he flings himself to the side. And then, there's a clatter, a crashing noise as the struggle going on between the two knocks over a storage cabinet, crushing the woman's tail. She lets out a short shriek of pain, tugging desperately at her tail to pull it out from under the cabinet. 

Wilbur takes the opportunity, and slams the woman’s head into the wall, holding back a wince and hopes that he’s imagined the hushed crack and she topples to the floor unconscious. Wilbur heaves a deep breath of air, glad he escaped the situation unharmed. After a minute to regain his thoughts and breath properly again, he peeks out of the door, relieved to find the hallway empty. The woman's associate hasn’t yet returned, and he closes the door on the knocked-out demon. Then he climbs up to the pillars above, waiting for the man to return.

“Samara!” A voice shouts. “Samara stop messing around!” Wilbur readies himself and watches the demon enter the room, holding a gleaming sword in his hand. Well. That certainly complicates things. He thinks bitterly. Nothing can ever be easy for me, can it? Still, Wilbur crouches in the shadows. The man looks around, up and down the hallways, before making his way to the storage closet to the left. He’s reaching to open the door when Wilbur teleports down. The demon doesn’t have a chance to react before Wilbur slams him against the wall, knocking him out in the fashion that he did to his partner. 

He isn’t quite sure what to do for a moment, as he stands there in disbelief that the same trick worked twice, but he quickly regains his bearings. He kicks the sword out of the hands of the fallen demon and opens the storage closet to lift him, dumping him into the dark room with his partner. He’s closed the closet door and is ready to head back when he spots Techno watching him from the doorway to the arena fighters room. He appears surprised and a bit confused. 

“Uh, what’s going on?” He asks, gesturing with his sword towards Wilbur and the storage closet. Wilbur shrugs.

“Overheard them planning to sabotage you.” He admits. “It would be annoying to have to deal with you being poisoned whilst we traveled.” He’s downplaying the situation, he recognizes, but he won’t admit to haven grown on Techno during the time they’ve spent together. Techno appears more surprised than he’s ever seen him, strange considering the man's forte at keeping a poker face. 

“Thanks.” He looks back to the storage closet, and back at Wilbur. “I noticed you were missing from the stands when my fight ended and was going to go make sure you hadn’t gotten yourself cornered again, but I guess it was the opposite for once.”

“Alright, I’m never doing anything nice for you again, I hope you know that.”

“Mhm.” Both of the young demons decide to leave before any more trouble can occur.

\----------------

“Hey, Wilbur.” 

They’re traveling now to a city closer to the Central Arena, and even Techno is beginning to feel the pinpricks of anticipation. He’s closer to the Demon Throne than ever before. Realistically, he should be focusing on tactics, skills, and preparations, but instead, as he walks alongside Wilbur, his mind is plagued by a different thought. Or rather, a question. 

“How come you’re always wearing that trenchcoat?”

Wilbur looks up, seemingly caught off guard. Suddenly Techno feels as though he’s asked something intimate, and hastens to change the mood.

“I mean it’s just not your size, I’m pretty sure it dwarfs you.” Wilbur frowns at the comment but thinks about the question for a minute. 

“Well, It’s not actually that special if I'm being honest.” He admits but continues speaking. “But I guess it is the first thing I stole by myself. So it’s just sorta a reminder to me that I can survive down here, you know?” 

Techno nods, because he does. In the underworld, you’d be a fool not to have a moment of doubt, of worry that you might not keep going. It was a dangerous place. So he does understand what Wilbur is saying. 

“You’re not alone anymore though.” He responds after a while. Wilbur is surprised by this statement but smiles.

“I guess not.” And Techno, for the first time since meeting his friend, smiles back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the story truly begins! I'm really excited to dive more into plot, I've got a lot planned with my interpretation of the canon of this au and my own take on it. My outline grows larger everyday lmao
> 
> This chapter was really fun to write, and if you have read this far, thank you! :)


	3. Throne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how necessary this is, but I'd rather be safe then sorry, so /tw burns and description of burns. If that upsets you, please be warned!

The fortress of the Demon King is large and foreboding. Thick walls built by blackstone bricks and tall parapets that create a defensive structure. Inside, winding pathways torches that illuminate shadowy corridors and expansive rooms filled with treasures, weaponry, and books of old fill the castle. And at the very center of all of this, the Demon King sits on his throne. Techno wonders whether or not he’s aware that he’s stood outside the gates, prepped and ready to battle for a claim to the throne. 

Wilbur nudges him with his shoulder, and Techno is snapped out of his reverie. He takes a deep breath and turns back towards the looming gates.

“It’s now or never.”

Techno pushes open the gateways, Wilbur following close behind. They’ve abandoned most of their traveling supplies, hidden them away in a tree, though it doesn’t matter, because if Techno loses this fight, he likely won’t be coming out of this building alive. Wilbur however, doesn’t have to come with him. He could leave, and so Techno is unsure why Wilbur is putting himself at risk like this. He’s touched by the gesture, the loyalty shown by his friend. Gods, his friend. Never would he have expected the snarky thief would grow on him so.

But there they are, walking together in the fortress, footsteps clicking softly on the smooth floors as they come closer to the throne room. Techno briefly wonders why it’s so empty, having only seen guards at drawbridge they crossed to reach the gateways. From that point on, the castle remained ominously silent. He tightens his grip on his sword. He isn’t afraid, he is confident in his ability to win. But nerves don’t care about logic, and he finds himself going off strategies in his mind to soothe the paranoia gaining control of his thoughts. 

The hallways have begun to change near the throne room. Vaulted ceilings with gold fixings, more dramatic lighting, and walls covered in vines, lush dark green tones that are rare to find in the underworld. But most of all, it’s the uptick in valuables. The tiles, upon a closer look, are embedded with flecks of gold, and small diamonds that shine in the corner of his eye. The ceiling arches feature rubies and even in places where the castle’s age begins to show it’s a divine work of architecture. 

Techno stills for a moment and looks into the shadows as they enter a crossroads in the path to the throne room. It’s easy to navigate, simply look to where the building looks most grand, but Techno trusts his battle-honed instincts, and they tell him someone is watching. He considers forcing them to reveal themselves but decides against it. He was here for the king, no one else. So he continues on his way, Wilbur close behind, a reassuring presence to ease his nerves.

And then they reach the fated room. The mysterious, almost fabled room that every demon had dreamt of one day fighting in for the throne. There is a domed roof and a blood-red carpet that leads to the throne. The throne itself is mesmerizing, matching the general aesthetic of the palace. It’s carved from black marble, decorated with gold and rubies, and a cushion made of the same color as the carpet is fixed in the seat. 

But it’s who’s sitting in the seat that matters. The demon who sits on the throne looks to be the same age as Techno himself. They’re tall, with light brown hair and tail, and pointed horns and eyes of emerald green. He wears a matching set of loose-fitting black pants, turtleneck, and gloves. On his head sits a gleaming gold crown, the artifact passed down through every Demon King. Techno himself wasn’t sure who he would be facing. The demon king was a secretive subject and there were too many unreliable rumors and sources to accurately gain intel. However, the demon king is an unstable title. During the period of time where Techno did scour the underworld in search of information, there would be months where one demon held claim to the title, and in the next week, a series of three more would hold claim before the haze surrounding the king returned. Not long before he met Wilbur was the last time he heard of a new Demon King, of someone young but powerful. Perhaps the demon in front of him now was that same demon, strong enough to hold onto his title despite the challengers, many of whom were likely older.

At the foot of the throne, stands another demon. Where the king appears serious but unemotional, calculating, and cold as he surveys Techno and Wilbur, this demon had his eyebrows furrowed in discontent and is openly glowering at the two. His horns transition from red to orange and his tail ends in a pointed barb. His hair is kept out of his face by a white headband. Over a pair of black pants and a tight-fitting shirt, he wears a grey robe embroidered with gold thread that reaches to his knees. He regards them both before turning to look at the King. 

“I presume you know what I’m here for, your highness. Though, you won’t hold a claim to that title for very long.” At Techno’s remark the black-haired demon sneers. He looks more interested in the prospect of a fight then the King himself. 

“Oh please, don’t flatter yourself. You won’t know what hit you by the time Dream is done.” _So the Demon King is called Dream. Good to know._ Techno turns back to Dream in favor of ignoring the other demon. He seems more thoughtful and hasn’t yet spoken. 

“Well, Dream? Care to put that title of yours to the test?”

\----------------

Dream was a smart person. He knew how to recognize the innocent from the guilty, the liars from the truth-tellers, the experienced from the amateurs. Even before he became the demon King, and leading up to it, it was a skill he trusted and understood the value of. It was because of this talent that, even when he was young and naive, a mere child, he could tell Sapnap was genuine to him, someone who would grow to become one of his closest allies and friends. 

And it was due to this skill, that he knew not to take the threat standing before him lightly. 

“Well, Dream? Care to put that title of yours to the test?”

The voices snarl at him to put the demon in his place, for snarking at him. It had taken a while for the voices to tolerate Sapnap, for him to manage them without losing his mind. Dream pointedly ignores them. He allows himself a single moment longer to assess the demon, before smiling. 

“Don’t get too cocky there. As you’ve just acknowledged, I am the king.” Both demons are smiling now, and Dream feels the typical exhilaration that comes with the prospect of a fight. He leads the demon into the tournament room, a dimmer chamber of the castle directly behind the throne room. The floor caves in at the center, creating a pit for the fighters. Dream tugs the crown off his head and places it on the pedestal overlooking the ring. Technoblade is already in the pit, watching him. Dream takes out his axe, leaping down into the pit and locking his opponent in the eyes. 

**Kill him! Kill him!  
** **Chop him up!  
** **Stay on guard.  
** **How dare he disrespect the king!**  
**Be wary of him—  
** **Danger.**

He was talented with a sword, but something about the way the fighter carried himself, was different from a typical fighting position. Changed, to adapt to his ability. This meant that not only was Technoblade a challenge to deal with because of the weapon but also because he had a directly combative power, something Dream lacked. His own shapeshifting, whilst powerful and useful, especially as the Demon King, was not one that came into play very often in impromptu battles. It took the blood of a person and the time to transform, so it was best incorporated when Dream conducted plans from afar, to acquire information, the like. 

He was at a disadvantage here, he realized, despite being on his turf. But Dream had no plans to lose, so he nodded at Sapnap, asking his friend to countdown the match. He notices the demon Techno had brought with him watching but trusts Sapnap to prevent possible sabotage.

Sapnap reaches the middle and raises his arm. The voices grow a little louder in his mind, and for a moment Dream struggles to regain his focus. 

At least make yourselves useful and help me beat him. He thinks. 

“On the count of three, both fighters may begin!”

“One.” Dream shifts his weight onto his right foot, perfecting his fighting stance, ready to clash. 

"It stays in the pit, Dream. May the best fighter win."

“Two.” He adjusts his grip on his axe and locks eyes with Technoblade. The pink-haired demon is watching him carefully. Dream smirks. 

"May the best win." 

“Three.” Immediately both demons are caught in a grapple, the grating sound of metal clashing against metal as their weapons struggle for dominance filling Dream’s ears. They push against each other for a second more, before Dream leaps backward, putting some distance between them. Techno is on him in an instant, sword slashing the air, and Dream dodges and leaps around the pit. At one point he swings his axe towards Technoblade’s leg as he moves away, the demon not moving away fast enough to avoid getting cut. He hears Sapnap cheer faintly over the adrenaline that's deafening the outside noise. 

Unluckily for him, the cut is shallow, and Technoblade hardly notices the wound. Dream uses Technoblade to vault himself over him. He moves his axe to strike but Technoblade uses his sword to stop the weapon. Then he rushes forward, and Dream is stopping sword movements with the hilt of his axe, locking them once more in a standstill. He grits his teeth, and his axe is starting to move closer to Technoblades shoulder, but then Technoblade shoots out a bloodied hand and grasps Dream’s arm, yanking it away. That in and of itself would have been annoying, but then the spot where Techno grabbed him burns. It’s unexpected and Dream can’t stop a yelp of pain from leaving him. 

_Did his touch burn me?_ He wonders. _Is this what his ability is?_

It’s problematic and not something he planned on dealing with, but as long as he doesn’t allow Techno to touch his bare skin, he’ll be alright. So ignores the stinging ache of the burns, hopes they aren’t horrible to deal with after the match, and continues to fight.

He swipes his feet out from under him, and Techno flips away in a show of flexibility, avoiding the axe that would’ve lodged itself in his side. Dream tugs the axe out of the ground, but during that time Techno lands a hit on him, the sword leaving a deep gash from his left shoulder to his elbow. Thankfully it’s his non-dominant arm, so Dream raises his axe again.

Dodge, kick, strike, slash.

Slash, groan, leap, punch.

It’s a bloody and violent symphony, but it’s one they both know by heart. 

The voices budge in at times, pointing out a slower movement, and opening in his stance, a possibility to strike, but the demon is a force to be reckoned with, and Dream can feel himself being driven into a corner. So as the sword is aimed for him, he slides under the man, the sword being driven into the ground. He kicks Technoblade in the back, and the demon is forced to leave the sword, shifting into a crouch as he regains his balance.

And then Dream is on the offense, leaping into the air as he swings his axe down. Their spilled blood has begun to accumulate onto the already centuries blood-stained tiles. Technoblade moves to the wall, but at the last moment uses it to push himself above Dream. The axe is lodged into the wall, and as Dream yanks it out, Technoblade has already grabbed his sword. Dream feels himself growing tired and fatigued, his chest rising up and down rapidly as it struggles to fill his lungs with oxygen. He pushes through the sensation with practiced ease.

He darts forward again first, forcing the other demon to bring his blade up and deflect the blow. They are locked in combat, waiting to see who will relent and back away first, when Dream feels himself fall, Technoblade having swept his feet out from under him. Gritting his teeth, he raises his axe to protect him and uses his injured arm to soften his fall. Warm blood is staining his clothes as the wound on his shoulder is jostled and crushed under him. Technoblade is pinning him down now, and as he moves his injured hand out from under him, his grip on the axe becomes flimsy. In a single movement that burns itself into Dream’s mind, the axe is shoved out of his hand, landing a few feet away from him. His weapon is out of reach and he’s left defenseless.

He begins to panic, and for the briefest moment, his ears register Sapnap’s worried shouts, but then they vanish, and all he’s left with is a loud ringing in his ears as he looks up into the face of Technoblade. 

He’s pinned to the ground, and the sword is coming down towards his throat in what seems like slow motion. In a moment of desperation he twists to the side, and the sword is planted into the ground, sinking deep into the ancient stone floor. His movement pinned his other arm beneath him, so with his other remaining arm, he grips Technoblade's face. His claws pierce the skin of Technoblade's face, tearing into the flesh before he slashes across in a swift movement. Immediately, thick, warm blood is spilling from the wounds in the other demon's face, whom has gone still. It falls down, quickly making contact with his own face. 

And oh how it burns.

His hand is melting, and his face is greeted with a searing sensation of pain as thick globs of acidic blood continue to fall down from the lacerations he’s created on the other demon's face. He feels disconnected from the world, the only thing he can focus on being the overwhelming pain dulling his mind yet sharpening all his senses at the very same moment. 

He can feel the burns creating painful blisters, the state of his face worsening as the blood falls faster and faster, as he lays there, unmoving. It's crackles and sizzles and Dream is begging, pleading for it to end. His vision has turned red with blood, both Technoblade's and his own. Dream closes his eyes in hopes of at least protecting his vision from the blood. The stench of burning flesh, his burning flesh, is polluting his lungs. Eventually, something in his foggy mind notices the sound of a piercing scream shattering the air. Belatedly, he realizes it’s coming from him. 

He can feel himself losing strength and the hand that was holding Technoblade up and away from him, the hand that was the cause of the boiling, indescribable pain erupting all over his face, is falling limp on the ground. 

The ringing has begun to quiet, and he can’t do anything more than fail to hold back tears of pain as his consciousness fades. 

\----------------

Sapnap swears time freezes as he watches the latest opponent, Technoblade pins Dream down. His face is full of terror, and his axe is out of reach. 

“Dream!” He screams in his panic, but his friend doesn’t react, clawing at Technoblade’s face. The demon who arrived with Technoblade, who’s been watching in near silence, lets out a soft gasp. But before Sapnap has time to question him on why a deafening screech of agony is filling his ears. He looks back and chokes back a feeling of sickness. The blood of Technoblade is falling from the claw marks in his face Dream made, and burning the face of his best friend. He feels frozen in his spot by the horror of what he’s witnessing, before forcing himself into a sprint, summoning flames in his hand as he approaches the two.

“He surrenders! He surrenders damn it!” Sapnap is hauling Dream out of the straddle Technoblade has him in when the screams end abruptly. The silence feels louder than ever before. The demon from the sidelines is helping pull Techno off of Dream, both of the fighters appearing unresponsive, though for vastly different reasons. 

Before Technoblade can regain his bearing, Sapnap is pulling Dream to his feet, holding his arm across his shoulder as he sets off into a sprint, Dream’s unconscious form leaning against him. Sapnap can’t bring himself to look at the burns, because he works with fire on a daily basis. He’s seen the way even the smallest of burns sear the skin and create unreasonable amounts of pain, and the burns on Dream’s face make him feel sick to his stomach. 

He’s tripping over his own feet as he struggles to carry Dream and leave the vicinity as fast as possible, causing Sapnap to stumble and heave, his aching lungs feeling sore and desperate for air. But he can’t stop, not until he can get Dream somewhere safe. 

He blanks for a moment, scared out of his mind before he comes to the only answer available, almost surprised that he didn’t think of it immediately in his mild hysteria.

So he ignores the way he wants to collapse onto the ground and continues to run until he physically can’t anymore, trudging through one of the entrances to Earth. 

He’s reaching the surface, the air noticeably more clear, and cold, and fresh as they reach Earth. He’s following the forest path, as he has countless times before when Dream begins to wake. He hears the choked noise Dream makes as he registers the burns once more, and he shuts his eyes in sympathy.

“S-Sapnap.” His voice is grating and unsure, and Sapnap hopes for his friend’s sake no one else will have to bear witness to the helplessness in his voice.

“Yeah, it’s me.” He responds. Dream is reaching up to clutch his face now, and Sapnap, as carefully and gently as he can while navigating the path, tugs the arm back down. Hopefully whatever remaining luck they might have comes through, and they won't be halted by other stray demons or inhabitants of the forest. 

“Don’t touch the burns, we need to get you to medical attention.” Dream shakily nods.

“I promise you, Dream.” He spots the cabin in the distance, and his chest fills with relief. Lanterns illuminate the forest from the open windows, and the ground crunches beneath his feet, alerting the witch to his arrival. George is inside, measuring herbs when he spots their approach from the window sill, and Sapnap feels pained as he watches the witch open the door to welcome them, the grin on his face dissolving into an expression of horror as he takes in the scene.

“I’ll help you regain your strength.” Both of them are ushered in, and George is frantically rushing around his kitchen and potion brewing station, asking them what’s going on, who did this, but Sapnap ignores him. He needs to reassure Dream before he loses consciousness again.

“No matter what.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is one of the only times that writing a fight scene hasn't been hard for me, so thats nice. Hopefully you guys found it well written! 
> 
> Did you guys catch the "it stays in the pit" reference? It was pretty obvious, so I'd be more surprised if you didn't, but those little easter eggs to the smp are really cool to me! I think I'll be trying to incorporate them more, so maybe look forward to that? Next chapter is probably going to be on the longer side, so it might take longer to update,, uhhh besides that I guess if you did read this far and liked it, maybe leave some kudos? Just a thought :)
> 
> Till next time!


	4. Reminisce

Naivety and innocence don’t last long in the underworld. It’s a trait that those unlucky few who lay claim to are quickly forced to abandon. Mercy had no place in Hell, but neither did childhood. 

Every demon was born from the walls that encircled the underworld, tall cliffs of stone, and crags of rock. Sapnap remembered vividly as he left the rock, young and tiny, but his eyes hungrily watching as he summoned flames in his hand for the very first time. Of course, seconds after this he was met with the realization that, even though he could summon and control the fire, that didn’t mean he was impervious to it. 

The scar from that day was still present, old, faded, and covering his palm. 

He was just like every other demon, filled with the knowledge that should he take the throne, riches, glory, power, and safety would be in his reach. So he made it his goal, like so many others.

But he didn’t realize yet, how weak he truly was in the grand scheme of things. 

Proclaiming his plans made the target on his back larger and more enticing than before. Sapnap just couldn’t have kept his mouth shut, and was forced to hide away from other child demons for his own good, all of them ignorant of the fact that none of them were a threat to anyone but each other in the underworld. 

Which was how Sapnap ended up with his face hidden in his arms, tail curled around him as the gang of demons, older than him, though still obviously not adults. He wasn’t even sure what he said that angered them so much, but it was likely how he wasn’t immediately falling to his knees and begging for forgiveness once they surrounded him. 

Sapnap wasn't a coward, and he didn’t regret his choice. But fighting back at first had only led to him being shoved into the dirt, unable to pick himself up without being kicked back down. 

He could only sit there and curl himself up in a ball as they punched, kicked, and jeered. He didn’t know how long he laid there in the ground, silent during the beating except for when he failed to hold down the occasional gasp and whimper of pain. But what he did remember was the way the demons who ambushed him, suddenly gasping and yelling, scrambling to leave. Yells of warning to their friends and shouts of fear. 

Sapnap felt battered and shaky, and he could only lift his head from out of his hands to stare up at the demon. They were older and taller, an adult, which was uncommon to see in the outskirts where most of the younger demons could be found, slowly traveling away from the walls they were born in, and towards the arenas and cities. Then right before his eyes, the demon was changing to become smaller and thinner, burgundy hair changing into light brown, short black horns changing into a pair both green and tall. And then before him stood a young demon like himself, though a bit taller, holding out their hand with an expression of concern on his face. 

“Are you alright?” The question caught Sapnap off guard, his mind still rattled. The boy took notice of this, and pulled him to his feet, not waiting for him to grab his hand and pull himself up. 

“Thanks.” He responded. Then his mind cleared, and he remembered one of the lessons he learned early on.

“What do you want.” At this, the boy seemed confused. 

“Nothing. I just didn’t like to see them hurting you for no reason.”

“No one does something for nothing.” The boy paused, contemplating this. 

“Well them, I want for you to be my friend!”

Sapnap stares up at the boy and is shocked when his green eyes display genuine happiness at the prospect. 

“Friends?” The boy nods, holding out his hand. 

“But...why?” The demon sighs as if he’s not surprised by the question. To be fair, Sapnap thinks it’s justified. It’s not like friends are a common thing in the underworld. It was easier to never grow close to anyone than to put your faith into someone, simply hoping that you wouldn’t be stabbed in the back in the first moment of hesitance or disagreement. 

“Because...well...you and I, we can help each other. We’re not strong enough on our own yet, but...together we could rule this place!”

Sapnap was unsure. But the boy was right, wasn’t he? On his own, he hadn’t been enough to stand up for himself. And it sounded like this demon felt the same about himself. 

“Well, you did just save me and everything. You seem pretty cool.”

“I’m Dream.”

“I’m Sapnap.” He introduces himself. 

“Let’s become stronger together!” He smiles toothily, and Sapnap returns the gesture. 

Having a friend sounds nice.

\----------------

Sapnap and Dream are up in the bell tower of the city, lounging around. Older than when they first met, but still years before the present moment. The bell is chiming from behind him, once, twice, three times and it stops. Sapnap uncovers his ears and looks at Dream, who’s perched along the railing. 

“You’re going to fall.” The demon scoffs.

“Have some faith won’t you, Sapnap.” Sapnap rolls his eyes.

“Don’t come crying to me when you break your arm.”

Dream ignores him and continues to balance along the barrier when suddenly Sapnap feels a tug in his stomach. He turns to look at Dream, who’s hopped down from his precarious perch to feel his stomach.

“Do you feel that as well?” Sapnap asks, confused at the weird feeling. It’s becoming stronger by the minute as if he’s attached to some rope, and the force pulling it is growing stronger and stronger.

“Uh, yeah I do. Are you messing with me or something?” 

“I’m not doing this.” He looks at Dream, who’s cat tail is flicking back and forth, a tell for his own nervousness. 

He hears Dream start to respond, but then thick, iridescent black smoke is appearing around them both. It swirls around him, and then they both vanish. 

It’s silent and colder than Sapnap has ever experienced, being from the fiery pits of Hell. A brief period of nothingness, of simply floating and existing in the void. 

And then he feels a wooden floor beneath him and his vision clears. To his side is Dream, already in a crouch, smoke clearing enough to make out the diagram on the floor, torches lighting up the dark room. A small window near the top of the ceiling let in soft orange light. And in front of him, a human boy, likely the witch who summoned them stands. His eyes shine with triumph, and he wipes away blood from his nose. He wears a light blue robe, a feature that Sapnap acknowledges in interest, with how uncommon the color is to be seen in the underworld. His hat is a bit too large for him, and on one side it’s decorated with sprigs of plants that Sapnap doesn’t recognize.

He isn’t sure what to expect from the boy. The witch smiles and Sapnap stands up from the floor, noticing Dream do the same from the corner of his eye. 

“I’m George! I uh...summoned you two?” The witch says. 

“What in the bloodiest pit of Hell is that supposed to mean?” Sapnap replies. 

“I want to trade my soul with the both of you in exchange for power.” Sapnap stares at George in bewilderment. 

“That didn’t help whatsoever.” George frowns. 

“Look, you guys are the demons, shouldn’t you know more about this?”

“Why would you summon demons if you didn’t know what you were doing?” Dream asks him. 

“I do know what I’m doing! If I didn’t, this ritual would have had a much worse outcome, for me atleast.” Sapnap frowns. 

“Well we don’t exactly know anything about what you’re talking about.” Dream pauses. “You said you knew how to perform the...ritual...correctly, so that means you learned it from somewhere. Can we go see whoever, or wherever you learnt it? 

“Probably. We’d just have to find the book itself, I only ripped out the page for the ritual itself.” George holds up a ripped page, affirming his claim. The witch leads them out of the room and into through a number of hallways until they reach a library, lighting a lantern to reveal walls filled with books, more than Sapnap has seen in his entire life. 

“Woah.” George turns around to see his staring.

“Yeah... the commune I’m living with right now is pretty big on reading. I suppose it would have been wiser to read more than just the summary and summoning instructions, but in my defense, I thought you would both know more.” He shrugs. “At least we have the information here.” He pauses, staring up at the shelves.

“...somewhere.”

George points the two demons towards the shelf containing the information on demons. The books, Sapnap notices, are written in what looks to be two different dialects, one of which he cannot read. He brings this up to George. 

“That’s because it’s an ancient language spoken by witches. Until the standard language of Terra came about all over the three realms, There were a bunch of ancient languages. Since it was during that time that a lot of influential knowledge and discoveries in the Witchcraft community were happening, a lot of the books here are written in Essempian.” George explains. “I suppose neither of you can read that though, so just stick to what you can read.”

They search for hours, calling out when they think they’ve found something useful when Sapnap notices a creaking noise from above, footsteps also becoming apparent. George looks up and grabs both him and Dream by the arm, and shoves them into a shadowy corner. Sapnap opens his mouth angrily to demand answers when George covers his mouth and whispers frantically. 

“Stay quiet until they leave! The rest of the commune isn’t exactly—uh—fond of demons, who knows what they’ll do if they spot you!” Sapnap is ready to ignore the witch when a figure appears in the doorway. So he reluctantly stays quiet, watching through the shelves until the figure finds what they're looking for and leaves. 

_Why would this guy summon a pair of demons, to trade his soul for that matter, if his commune hates them. Is he braindead or something? Sapnap grouchily thinks as Dream is squished closer to him._

George lets out a sigh of relief and all three clamber out of the hiding spot. George looks out the small window near the top of the wall showing it a sliver of the inky-black sky outside. He grabs a pile of unread books.

“Let’s head to my place. We won’t have to worry about anyone sneaking up on us there, and I can try to answer any of your questions. We should be able to make it there without anyone spotting us now that it’s dark out...hopefully.” They do manage to leave the small village without being spotted, Sapnap and Dream scour the area, wide-eyed as they take in their first proper glance at Earth. 

“It’s so much colder than in the underworld.” Dream comments and Sapnap notices he’s trying to wrap his arms around him and stay warmer inconspicuously. He lights a small fire in the palm of his hand. 

“Well, Earth isn’t exactly known for its lava pools, constant fires, or asphyxiating heat,” says Sapnap, deciding to state the obvious, if purely to see Dream’s eye twitch in annoyance. “You guys could use some more fire in my opinion.”

They arrive at a small house, farther away from the village, and continue to pour over the contents of the books. They grow closer and Sapnap slowly lets his guard down around George, noticing Dream doing the same. A week passes before they feel as though they have learned everything they need to know. They can’t return to hell until they find one of the tunnels leading to it, and they must finish the summoning process with George before they enter. So they stick around longer, exploring the overworld and its many curiosities. 

\----------------

The boys are clustered together in a field, the summer night air pleasantly cool in stark contrast to the hot and humid climate. Fireflies lazily fly through long grasses and wildflowers. Laughter fills the night, boisterous and loud as they cackle over some long-forgotten joke. 

Dream lets out a long wheeze, clutching his stomach as he lies down in the grass. This seems to send George further into hilarity, the boy cackling and Sapnap feels himself laughing harder for no other reason than the gleeful atmosphere. George manages to speak in between guffaws. 

“You—“ He dissolves into laughter midway through the word. “You sound like a tea kettle, Dream.” He continued to laugh. Both demons look at each other, confused.

“What’s a tea kettle?” Sapnap asks, looking at George curiously. Truly, anything that manages to emulate the sound of Dream’s strange wheezes of laughter must be a sight to behold.

“You guys don't know what a tea kettle is? Oh my gods.” George is tugging them both to their feet, still chucking as he leads them into the cottage. They’re all lucky that George lived on the outskirts of the commune, making hiding from the other witches easy. He’s pulling out a strange pot from a cupboard. He fills it with water, before setting it over the hearth. He mutters an incantation, and Sapnap spots a few flickers and sparks in the fireplace, but nothing more. 

George groans in disappointment before looking at him.

“Do you mind?” Sapnap shrugs but dutifully lights the fire. 

“Now just wait, you’ll see the similarities, it’s uncanny.” 

“I’m so confused.” Dream admits, and Sapnap chortles. 

“Why are you laughing? That wasn’t even funny!” Dream cries, but he doesn’t bother hiding his smile.

They bicker for a few more minutes, George eventually proclaiming that they both had the worst sense of humor, when suddenly a high whistle is coming from the kettle. 

“No way,” Sapnap exclaims. “You’re right, that does sound like Dream! George, make Dream laugh so we can get a comparison!”

“Why me?”

“You can’t just make me laugh on command!” 

“It’s not on command, George would be making you laugh!” Sapnap argues. The noise of the tea kettle stops suddenly, and Sapnap looks at George with fake betrayal. 

“George! Now we won’t get to see the two kettles together!” He whines. 

“You know you can just try again the next time I make tea, right?”

“But that’s not the same!” 

“Well, it’s too late now.” He hands them all steaming cups of tea. The summer air is filled with the chirp of insects, the scent of herbal blends, and the embers of a dying conversation as they fall asleep.

\----------------

“Majority rules, Georgie, haven’t you heard?” George scoffs at the nickname.

“Georgie?” 

“What don't you like it?” Dream is asking, grinning. “Oh Georgie, Georgie-poo.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“You love me.” 

“No, I do not.”

“Hey lovebirds, can we focus back on the subject?” He asks drily, breaking up the argument before it turns into a neverending back and forth. 

“Yes, thank you Sapnap! Like I was saying before Dream started acting stupid—”

“Oh come on—”

“Shhhhhh!” George shushes Dream, the demon glaring at him. “Like I was saying, I found this spell I want to try out on you both! It’ll allow you both to transform into an animal at will!”

“I can already shapeshift George. That's like my whole thing.”

“Well yeah, but Sapnap can’t and I can’t keep letting you go steal blood from people. They’re not stupid you know, they’ll start to realize something is up.” 

“Yeah, and if you continue leaving me behind you will return to a pile of ashes one day.”

“Don’t you dare threaten to burn down my house, Sapnap.”

“I’m not threatening you, I’m just warning you, so that you tell Dream to stop being a little bitch, so that we can get this whole transformation thing done already.”

“Fine!” Dream relents, and Sapnap sends a satisfied smirk at George, who returns the gesture. 

“Great! I already made the potion you need to drink before I cast the spell, so here.” George hands both the demons a glass vial filled with a murky dark teal color. Sapnap chugs it down before he can overthink it. He makes a face at the texture.

“Why is it thick?!” George shrugs, and Dream unsurely drinks the potion, gagging afterward. George ignores them and is flipping through a small leather-bound book. Sapnap can see small handwritten notes in the margins, specks of ink staining the crisp pages until George finds what he’s looking for.

“Here!” He reads it over before looking at the Sapnap and Dream. 

“Et ex mutatione reverti.” Sapnap glances downs at himself and then at Dream.

“You feel anything?” 

“Uhh, not particularly.”

“Hey, George, I think your spell is a bit scuffed—” Both demons vanish in a purple shimmery fog, slowly clearing to reveal two cats in their place. 

“What the fuck.” Now Dream understood what Sapnap was saying, but George did not. 

“It worked, oh my gods it worked! I’ll be right back, give me a second alright!”

Dream wandered over to Sapnap without issue, seemingly already accustomed to his new body. Sapnap did not have the same luck, however, and was struggling to walk around smoothly. After a few minutes of watching the demon struggle, Dream decided to step in and help. Not that he was very good at it, in Sapnap’s opinion. 

“Sapnap come on, it’s really not that hard!” 

“Says the demon with a cat tail!” 

“Tails don’t correlate with walking skill, you idiot.” 

“Just help me damnit!”

“I’m trying!”

“Yeah but you’re doing a shit job right now!” 

Eventually, Sapnap got the hang of it, and George returned to inform them of how to transform back to themselves. 

\----------------

“I suppose it’s time…” The trio stands in a clearing in a forest, the gaping mouth of a cave radiating the heat of Hell before them. George grasps a dagger in his hand and curls his other hand around the blade. They had discussed beforehand how it would go, but the nerves were still present in all three of them. 

“I ask you to lend me your magical energy and to help me grow in power and witching skill. In exchange, I offer you help and sanctuary at any point.”

“We accept these terms.” The dagger splits the surface of George’s palm, and he holds it out in front of him, the falling blood staining the ground. Heat spreads through his chest as if he’s swallowed a hot cup of tea, and the beverage is warming him from the inside out. Slowly the feeling fades, and George smiles at the two demons. Sapnap grins, and pulls all three of them together, looping his arms around them. 

“I’ll see you guys again soon, right?” George asks.

“Don’t worry George, you can’t get rid of us that easily.” Dream responds. 

“Yeah, we’re an unstoppable force now! We’ll be the greatest demons and witch there ever was!” Sapnap proclaims, and George and Dream grin. Eventually, they let go, and George waves them goodbye, as they travel down the tunnel, returning to the underworld.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was pretty much just a chapter regarding how the Dream Team met in this au. Two demons, a witch, and a summoning spell. Honestly, this chapter was a bit of a bitch to write, since I struggle with dialogue, and this chapter definitely had a lot of it, so I mean hopefully it sounded natural and fitting for them all? I think that there was a lot of world building that could've taken place in this chapter, but I didn't want to clump it all together and info dump so there's that to look forward to I suppose! Thanks for reading, as always!


	5. Healing

Sapnap sits in George’s house in silence. George has stopped questioning him, traveling to and from Dream’s room, prepping potions, bandages, and gauze. That’s not to say the man didn’t corner him, demanding answers once he was finished treating Dream. The smell of herbs, dried flowers, and sea salt fills Sapnap’s lungs, the comfortable scent dulling the remnants of panic. The faint sounds of a cauldron bubbling reach Sapnap’s ears and he lifts himself from the couch, walking over to the brewery of George’s house, next to the kitchen. The witch is stirring the potion, muttering to himself as he flips a small notebook of instructions next to him. 

“Essence of Mirkwood, dried lavender, infuse with...no it’s all there...all right…” He goes back to stirring the pot, before looking up and spotting Sapnap. He jerks his head towards a couch in the corner. 

“Sit down, Sapnap, as soon as I can let this potion finish brewing, you’re going to explain everything.” He nods, and George gives him a strained smile before returning his attention to the draught. He appears satisfied, and with a wave of his hand and a murmured incantation, the fire beneath the cauldron flickers out.

George takes off his glasses to wearily wipe his eyes. 

“Sapnap, what the hell is going on. You need to explain to me, especially considering it's my house Dream has just spent the past hour bleeding in.” Sapnap winces at the reminder of his friend's state.

“Is he alright?” he asks, and the silence he’s greeted by as George thinks does little to calm his nerves. George lets out a sigh. 

“I’ve done all I can at the moment but...I’m sure you understand this is serious. Had you been any slower in coming to me...he might’ve lost his vision.” At Sapnap’s look of dismay, he backtracks. 

“Don’t worry I salvaged his eyesight! At the very least he managed to avoid getting burned in the parts that mattered. He’ll be able to see fine...but...well I don’t think I need to explain to you how bad the situation is.” George sighs pressing his palms into his eyes. 

“He’s going to need to fend off infection and the skin itself will take months to heal enough to remove the bandages. I’ve sent a message to Karl,” Sapnap feels a hint of joy at the mention of his friend, an out-of-place emotion in his turbulent mind. “—asking him to bring a special cream and medicine to help Dream alongside my usual deliveries.” He pauses, and groans. Sapnap looks at him in confusion. The witch leaves the room before returning with a small vial. 

“Hold out your hands you idiot, they’re burned as well.” Sapnap complies, allowing the man to carefully treat the burns. He takes the opportunity to explain what went down. How the two demons entered the castle, how Technoblade challenged Dream to a fight and he accepted, leading them into the tournament room. How Dream and the other demon watched from the sidelines as the battle commenced, and the way Technoblade pinned Dream down. How he turned to see the demon's blood spilling down onto Dream’s face, burning it whilst he screamed. 

By the end of his explanation, George looks pale and nauseous. But he nods. 

“His hand was burned as well, it matches up.” Is all he says. He stands up and takes off his glasses. 

“Come on, there’s nothing more we can do until the morning, let’s at least rest so we can continue this in the morning.”

“Alright,” Sapnap responds. He heads to the spare bedroom and collapses onto the bed in exhaustion.

Sapnap wakes up to the morning light streaming from the windows. He basks in the sun, and he thinks that he’ll never grow tired of waking up to the sun illuminating the world. It’s such a stark contrast to the underworld, where it’s constantly shadowy and dark, the light coming from fires and lava pools. It’s quiet and peaceful, and Sapnap lays there, lingering in the feelings of nostalgia and blissful memories. 

He hears George shuffling around in another room, likely tending to Dream again. He sighs, and runs a hand through his hair before standing up, and heading over to the room.

George is surrounded by potions and medical supplies, carefully bandaging Dream’s face. The used bandages remain by his feet, bloodied and ruined. Sapnap throws them out, and George approaches from behind, having left the supplies in Dream’s room. 

“Hey, Sapnap.” 

“Good morning, George. Want me to make you some tea?” The witch nodded, and Sapnap set to work. Before long he was handing George a mug of the beverage, sitting down at the table with him. He could hear the faint sound of wind chimes from outside the house, and many of the normally green trees were turning shades of orange, red, brown, and yellow. 

George finished his tea, and left, murmuring something about a regeneration potion. Sapnap knew better to bother the man, especially as this was likely for Dream, so he transformed into a cat and leaped up onto the sunny windowsill. He had begun to doze off when George returned.

“Hey Sapnap, I need you to go out and gather these flowers for me. There should be some remaining by the river that hasn’t wilted yet, alright?” He doesn’t wait for Sapnap to transform and give him an answer, simply leaving the basket with a reference for the plant he was supposed to gather, a sprig of white flowers, that although dried, gave off a pleasant scent. So Sapnap reverted to his normal demon form and left the house. He was slowly approaching the river, the path beneath his feet becoming rockier and muddier, and the sound of rushing water becoming louder. He made it to the river, lifting a hand above his eyes to block out the sun as he scanned the edges of the river for the flowers. 

He was beginning to think the flower had truly died with how long he had been searching to no avail when he spotted a cluster of growth hidden behind some rocks. Finally. Sapnap crouched down, practically plucking the plant bare of any growth. He knew that George would lecture him about how it was better to have a large stock while the plant was naturally growing and fresh, rather than having to painstakingly grow it during the winter months under careful supervision, and many incantations. 

He returns to the cottage, handing over the basket to George. The next few days pass by similarly, George treating Dream, who in turn was beginning to gain consciousness for short periods, leading George to hand the demon a draught to put him back to sleep until the wounds healed enough for the pain to be more bearable. Sapnap would be left to gather herbs and help George with the less magical aspects of the potions, like grinding roots into a fine powder or extracting the oils from flower petals. One day he was even sent to fetch the feathers of an uncommon bird living near the foot of the mountain, which also happened to be where the cave to the underworld was. That had been an interesting day, for sure, and George had been quite irritated when a few of the feathers were singed from flames. 

In his defense, he did his best to avoid the flames catching onto the bird, simply meaning to scare it enough so that he could pluck a few of the tail feathers. Not his fault the bird was dumb enough the fly into the fire. It was a week later when Dream finally woke up without choked back cries of pain. 

“Dream! How are you feeling?” Was what Sapnap heard from the other room, before leaving behind what he was doing to get to George and Dream. The injured demon was trying to prop himself up against the headboard of the bed.

“How long have I been asleep?” He rasped, his voice slightly grating from disuse. 

“...A bit longer than a week.” 

“A week!?” Dream exclaimed, instantly trying to grip the bandages off his face to pull them off. Sapnap grabbed his hands to prevent him from undoing the wraps. 

“Dream, what the hell are you doing!?” George shouts. “Do you want your face to heal or not?!” 

“I need to—to go back and fight Technoblade again. I lost the match!” Sapnap can feel the emotions he felt over the past week, fear, anger, and guilt repressed as he anxiously waited for the very moment when Dream would wake up, suddenly boil over. 

“Yeah, no shit you lost the match! So why the hell would you stand the slightest chance of winning now?” He yelled. “Stop being an idiot! We’ve spent the last week, every waking moment helping you, so don’t you dare go and throw it away for a battle you can’t win!” Dream is stunned at the outburst, and George watches them both silently. He clenches his hands to stop them from shaking. “You can’t win this fight, Dream. Not today. Just—” His voice dies out too exhausted to continue yelling, especially at his best friend, who’s hurt and can’t know how stressed he and George had been. He takes a deep breath. “You need to heal. Let us help you.” He leaves the room before anyone can respond. 

He doesn’t mean to slam the door closed, but that’s what happens anyway. He winces at the loud slam but doesn’t stop. He steps out onto the porch of the house. He lifts his knee up onto the bench and leans his head against it. Eventually, he’d have to return, and properly talk to Dream, but for now, he’d gather his thoughts by himself. The door opened with a creak after about an hour of Sapnap staring up at the drifting clouds.  
“You can’t stay out here forever, Sapnap,” George told him, leaning against the doorway. Sapnap sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Despite wearing a headband, it always managed to continue falling in his face. 

“Yeah, alright.” He moved past George and to Dream’s room. His friend is properly sitting up this time, waiting for his arrival. So Sapnap ignores the underlying tension in the room and sits down in the chair next to the bed. 

“Hey.” He greets. Dream fidgets with the blanket as he responds. 

“Hey…look I-” he cuts himself off, seeming to think his words over. “I’m sorry. I didn’t stop to think about the situation rationally.” Dream lets out a bitter chuckle. “It should’ve been pretty clear, to begin with. I mean you were right. I fought with him before, and look at how that played out. Look, what I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry. I was being rash and it’s not fair to you and George.” His voice quieted, drained of energy. 

“George told me about my injuries. It’s scary to think about...about how close I was toeing the line with far worse consequences. Thanks for getting me out of there Sapnap.”

“It was never a question, Dream. We’re going to get stronger together, remember?” He smiles at the memory. “Me, you and George, the strongest trio around. And, don’t apologize. I’m also at fault. Exploding onto a newly woken burn victim isn’t one of my best moments, I’ll admit.” Both demons laughed softly. 

“I could have handled the situation better. It’s just...it’s been a stressful week man. I’m sorry for blowing up like that.”

“Let’s just agree to forgive each other about everything. It’s too exhausting to continue apologizing.” 

“I’m good with that.” He stood up, making his way out of the room before pausing at the doorway. “Don’t worry, Dream. We’ll get your throne back eventually.” 

\----------------

It’s a week after he first wakes up that George allows Dream to take a look at himself in the mirror. George seems wary of allowing Dream to see himself, but there is only so long that he can stand to lie in bed, blind to everything, including what he looks like. So he reassures his friend that he’s prepared to see the aftermath of his burns.

He isn’t.

He tries to form a fake semblance of acceptance with his scarred face. But it’s jarring and makes him feel oddly vulnerable. His weakness, his failure is being flaunted on his face, with no way to hide it. The scarring covers nearly his whole face, and in his left eye, he can see his attempts to stop the acidic blood from blinding him, didn’t work for the rest of his eye, leaving it permanently more squinted than the other. He hands back the mirror to George. 

George tells him that his recovery will still continue for a few months, that the healing process is still unfinished, therefore the scarring might improve during that time.

Dream doesn’t believe him. He doesn’t blame the man, of course, he’s grateful to him. But as Dream sits in that room alone, bandages once more wound around his face, he feels a tug of grief in his chest for his damaged face. 

Over the next few days, he tries to cover up his melancholy state by acting as he normally would, if not a bit more excitable. He’s unsure of whether it works, but neither of them calls him out for it. George begins to let the bandages off for short periods of time, allowing the wound to breathe. The first time, Dream doesn’t leave his room. It’s irrational, both Sapnap and George are the two people he trusts most, and it’s not as though they haven’t seen his face already. When George returns to hand him a potion and salve, they sit there quietly. 

When he leaves, closing the door softly behind him, he listens for the sound of footsteps to cease, for the muffled voices to quiet and vanish. When they do, he cautiously lifts himself out of bed and sits on the windowsill. He can’t see the moon, but through the white fabric of the bandages, the faint light seeps through. His tail curls around his feet and he rests his chin in his hands. 

For someone who had done nothing but sit in bed for a week, it was quite remarkable how he had ignored his thoughts. He didn’t want to confront them, just like he had ignored the absence of the voices, unfamiliar after all this time. He had lost nearly everything. His throne, his crown, his face. All of it had been taken from him with the outcome of a single battle.

And now? Now Dream was too much of a coward to even face his friends. Logically, he knows that it doesn’t matter. George and Sapnap had seen his face far before he had. There was no way for him to hide away the burns and scarring. But the thought still scared him, worried that they would somehow think less of him. Worried that behind his back, whispers of his failure and worthlessness would spread. Whispers.

It reminded him of another unavoidable fact. The voices had left him, an undeniable sign that his right to the throne had been revoked.

The Demon King was a complicated position. It had been around since the beginning of the underworld, from the very moment that demons became entities. Its existence and its promise of luxury, safety, and strength was information that every demon was born knowing, similarly to how they all understood from the moment they left the walls that only the strong survived down there. 

Yet for knowledge that was so commonplace, beyond those promises, very little was known about the Demon King. With so many demons fighting amongst one another to claim the throne, those who had information were quickly sought out and just as quickly silenced. 

There hadn’t been a Demon King who openly and truly ruled over the underworld for many years. Even before Dream left the walls, the throne was constantly fought over, with demons claiming the throne only to be killed within the week. But by the time Dream had begun arena fighting, Sapnap by his side as they moved through the fighting ranks, news of the Demon King was practically non-existent. It was rumored that the demons who served the King took it upon themselves to clear out unworthy competition to allow for a king to rule for more than a single day. 

Finding and securing the throne for his own was incredibly difficult. Dream and Sapnap had spent nearly the same amount of time piecing together maps and whispers into a cohesive trail and history. However a more closely guarded secret that Dream had only learned about through the King’s servants, was the voices of the Demon King. It was a collective subconscious, a stored whisper of each previous ruler that spoke only to the King. 

Dream’s mind, after so long, was silent. 

\----------------

The next day when George came to remove the bandages once more, Dream warily followed him out of the room. If George or Sapnap were surprised, they didn’t show it. They went about the cottage, talked with him, they all ate together, and Dream could almost forget about the events that had transpired. He could almost imagine it was as if nothing had ever changed.

It was nice. His lips perked into a smile, small and nearly unnoticeable. His friends understood what he needed better than himself. He wouldn’t let them down again. 

“Hey Dream, come help me out with the dinner! George is going to go brew more potions so we're on kitchen duty.” 

“Alright.” He replied. By some miracle they managed to not burn the kitchen down, a miracle considering their track record. Dream was reminded of when they first met George, and he began to explain Overworld food. Sapnap and him had been stunned at the prospect of making food other than roasted meat. Spices, recipes, the concept of desserts entirely had been new to them both.

Sapnap avoided looking him directly in the face when they spoke. Dream felt a bit patronized but pushed away his pride to appreciate the gesture. Sapnap didn’t have to do that, but he understood how Dream’s face was still a sore subject. He was doing this for Dream, and the demon wasn’t about to ruin it. The meal they had prepared, a kind of stew, was soon finished. Both demons began to fill the bowls, Sapnap yelling for George to come and join them as they did. 

It was not long after they finished eating that a knock sounded on the door. Dream looked at them both in confusion once he realized they appeared to have been expecting this. Sapnap got up from the table, smiling. Dream turns to George.

“What’s going on?” George looks puzzled for a moment before replying.

“We didn’t tell you? Karl is coming. I messaged him earlier when you hadn’t woken up yet asking him for supplies to help heal you.” he paused, clearly thinking over his words. “I’m sorry that you didn’t know…”

“...no, no, it’s fine. It’s fine, George really.” He assured the witch. George looked at him unconvinced. 

“Why don’t you head back to your room, the potions will be done soon and I’ll have to reapply the bandages, so better to wait there, right?” Dream nodded, taking the excuse to leave. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Karl. He was nearly as close to the man as he was with George and Sapnap, and he had proven himself time and time again to be a funny, charismatic friend and useful ally. But showing his face to George and Sapnap was one thing, especially with how they had already seen it. He wasn’t quite sure yet whether or not he wanted to allow Karl to see him. He transformed into his cat form and leaped onto the windowsill to think once more.

\----------------

Karl hadn’t known what to expect when he reached George’s cottage. It had been a while since his last visit, and he’d been busy traveling throughout Earth with the crew. Luckily he’d been not too far away when he received the message, informing him of...well it was quite unclear if Karl was being honest, which he always is. It seemed hasty and hurried, and if the fact that Karl picked up tense and stressed energy simply from looking at it wasn’t enough, that didn’t compare to the worrying content of the message. It had simply read to come over, and bring with him some requested potion supplies, alongside burn cream. 

Karl knew George had a store of his own, so what did it mean if he was asking for some from him urgently? He didn’t wait to find out, borrowing one of the crew’s horses immediately after he got George’s supplies, and securing the next location to link back up with the crew before waving goodbye to Jimmy, Chandler, Chris, and the others.nThe journey itself wasn’t too bad. The autumn weather was pleasant, crisp and a gentle balance of neither hot nor cold. This meant that before long he was leaving his horse tied to the fencepost, patting the mare’s chin gently and allowing the creature to rest while he knocked on the door.

The door opened, leaving him face to face with Sapnap. The demon grinned, and Karl returned the smile, pulling his friend into a hug.

“Hey man, how have you been? It’s been so long!” Sapnap laughed.

“It really has been! It’s so great to see you again.” They walked inside, Karl taking off his light teal cloak and hanging it near the doorway, besides George’s witch hat, adorned with dried lavender stalks and grasses. Sapnap led him to the kitchen, summoning a handful of flames to begin heating a pot over the hearth. Slowly the underlying smell of stew began to strengthen. Karl watched George enter the room, and was reminded of the witch’s request. 

“Oh, George! Uh, one moment, I left your supplies with Rutabaga, let me go and get them.” He headed back to his horse, unloading the goods from Rutabaga’s back. The hose let out a soft whinney which Karl would assume was thanks for relieving them from the weight on their back, and he headed back to where George and Sapnap were waiting. George accepted the bags gratefully, and with a small smile to Karl, left the room. It was then that Karl noticed something. 

“Where’s Dream gone?” Sapnap grimaces and Karl is instantly on edge.

“Dream...it’s a long story.” The demon sighs, standing up to pour him some of the stew, before beginning to explain. By the time he’s done, the stew has hardly been touched and its warmth is gone. 

“So he doesn’t want me to see his face?” He asks afterward, to which Sapnap nods. The demon opens his mouth in what Karl believes is an attempt to either comfort him or defend Dream, but he raises his hand. “It’s fine Sapnap. That’s totally within his right, and I’d be a bit of an asshole if I invaded his privacy like that.” He understands, Karl truly does, so later that night as he sleeps in Sapnap’s room, his friend having insisted that he would be fine sleeping on the couch for the night, he thinks to himself.

He wonders how to help Dream, how to silently show his own support. How to help him, because the demon won’t be able to hide away forever. Unless…

He wakes up that morning determined. Dream isn’t anywhere to be seen in the kitchen, and neither is Sapnap, but George is and waves him over. 

“Thanks for the supplies Karl, they really came in helpful.”

“No worries!” He pauses to think for a moment before returning his attention to George. 

“Hey George, Sapnap filled me in on everything last night. And I actually had an idea about something,” The man looks intrigued and gestures for Karl to continue. “I’ll be heading to the town in the west, what was it called...Aurissis?”

“Yep, that’s the one. But why?”

“George, I can’t just tell you why, that would ruin the suspense!”

“No, you definitely can, tell me!” Karl simply laughs in response, causing George to frown in mock annoyance. 

“I was just letting you know, so I’ll be heading out now.”

“Alright, I’ll see you soon, right? Sapnap will be pissed if you left without telling him.

“Yeah, I’ll be back soon, though I’m sure you all would miss me terribly.” George shakes his head, and Karl heads to his horse, snatching two apples and his cloak as he leaves. He feeds one of them to Rutabaga as he saddles the horse, and with a single swift movement, lifts himself onto the animal. He takes a hold of the reins and the horse sets off in a steady run. 

It’s been a long time since Karl last saw the village, but it hasn’t changed at all since then. The brick pathways, hanging lanterns and busy marketplace were exactly as he remembered. Traveling with the crew all over Earth had given him many contacts, and a whole grand scheme of experiences. It was during one of their many expeditions searching for new goods to trade and places to document, that he stumbled upon the tiny shop he was looking for now. 

Karl swerved to avoid a pair of children chasing after one another, before pushing open the old wooden door to the shop. The air smelled of earthy clay, paint and lacquer filled the room. The small shop was empty, so he made his way to the front desk, ringing a miniature golden bell. Almost immediately, a young woman shot up from the back of the store, surprise evident on her face. 

“Oh hello! Er— welcome to Arbor’s Ceramics! How can I help you?” Karl smiled awkwardly at the woman. 

“I actually came by here a long time ago, and I remembered something and came to see whether you could make something like it.” He cleared his throat. “I was wondering if you could make a mask.”

\----------------

Karl returns later that night with a grin. George and Sapnap are laughing about something on the couch when they spot him. Sapnap waves to him and nudges George to the side so that he could make space for Karl. 

“George said you went on some secret expedition to the village.” Sapnap mentions. Karl nods. “I had an idea, and I want your help with it, George.” At this George looks at him expectantly for further information. Karl lowers his voice. Dream was still in his room, but he wanted to keep this a surprise for the demon, something to lift his spirits, at least he hoped it would.

“I know you guys mentioned how he’s uncomfortable with people seeing his face, since well...you know, and I remembered the last time I visited that village, there was this display of ceramic masks. They were probably intended for display only but with some enchanting…”

“You wanted to get him a mask and enchant it so he can see through it?” Karl nodded.

“Along with some precautions to make sure it doesn’t break and stuff, but that’s the gist of it.” 

“That’s...a pretty good idea,” Sapnap said. 

“Well don’t sound so surprised!” George and Sapnap laughed at him. 

He returned to the village a few days later, this time being greeted to the sight of the woman actually behind the counter. She smiled when she saw Karl.

“Hey! You’re just on time! I just finished it earlier this morning, I’ll go get it for you, just leave the payment on the counter!” Karl did as she asked, and before long the woman returned holding a box. Gently placing it on the counter, she opened it up. Inside, a glossy black mask laid, detailed with a carefully painted orange smile. It was simple, but the effort and hard work put into it was clear. 

“This is perfect, thank you!” The woman smiled in delight before she began to instruct him on how to carefully take the package back home with him to ensure it didn’t break. 

“Come back again alright!” She called out as Karl left the building, who nodded in response. The sun was setting by the time George handed him the completed mask. The black mask faintly shimmered from the magic and was now significantly lighter in his hands than before.

“Alongside some basic enchantments to make it harder to break, for him to see through the material and whatnot, I also made it less heavy since Dream is going to be wearing it around all day.” The witch explained. 

“Smart.” George smiled. 

“So, when are you planning to give it to him?” Karl was momentarily stunned.

“Oh, well I thought you guys would. I mean he isn’t really planning on seeing me without this mask, so…” 

“It was your idea, Karl, I think he’d appreciate being able to thank you. But you’re right about that…” George snapped his fingers as he thought of something. 

“Alright, give me that back, and go sit on the porch!”

“Wait, what! It’s nearly dark out!” 

“Oh don’t be ridiculous, you’re not scared of the dark Karl, now go sit outside.” The witch practically pushed Karl out of the house.

He sat down on the bench outside, wondering when exactly he would be allowed back inside when the door opened. Karl turned around, expecting George when he saw a demon, face hidden by the smiling mask. 

“Hello, Karl.” The last of the sun's rays as it slid below the horizon illuminated the ink-black mask. 

“Hey, Dream.” He slid over to the other side of the bench to allow the demon to sit down. 

“I’m sorry for not coming to see you these past few days, I really am, it’s just—”

“Dream.” he cut the demon off. “You don’t need to explain yourself, I understand.” Dream let out a sigh. 

“Thanks. For everything really. For the mask, for the supplies George needed, for...yeah.” Karl smiled. 

“No problem dude. It’s good to see you again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Karl has officially arrived!!! :D
> 
> He isn't a huge part of this fic, but I decided to take the time to introduce him and involve him in the plot more then just being a friend with the rest of the Dream Team. On that note, there are definitely going to be more of the Dream SMP members in this fic if you haven't already realized, besides just the main cast. I think I should also note that the main cast will be introduced over the course of the fic, so if you're excited to see someone in particular you might have to wait.
> 
> The next chapter is already in progress, and even though it's been an absolute bitch to write, I'm super excited, and it's looking to be longer than the previous chapters, so if it takes a bit longer, thats why.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. Voices

Becoming the Demon King wasn’t what Techno expected it to be. Well, to be fair, he wasn’t quite sure what he had been expecting. But as he lay there clutching his skull as the inside of his mind was trampled by thousands of voices, he knew it wasn’t this. The cacophony of noise was numbing, and he barely registered what was going on around him. All he knew was that one-moment Techno had Dream pinned down, the Demon King reaching up for his face before noise exploded all around him. 

His ears were ringing, and he lost sense of his body. Faintly felt himself being pulled off of something, no someone. He brought his hands up to his ears, the simple movement feeling slow and delayed, but the voices didn’t stop. The voices talked over one another, louder and louder until any hopes of Technoblade making out what they were saying had disappeared. 

_Shut up shut up shut up shut up—_

“Techno!” He opened his eyes _(he couldn’t remember when he had closed them—)_

“Wilbur.”

“Techno what’s going on! I’ve been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes!” The voices became louder in a struggle to be heard, drawing out Wilbur’s words. He struggled to form a response to the screaming before his vision went black. 

\----------------

Wilbur watched the demon race towards Techno and the Demon King. He was still frozen in place when the demon began to pull the Demon King out from under Techno. Wilbur raced over and helped to pull Techno off, who had gone still, eyes glazed over. The two demons exchanged the briefest of eye contact before Wilbur watched the demons run away. He turned his attention back to Techno, whose hands were shaking as they made their way up to cover his ears. Wilbur crouched down beside him confused at his behavior. 

“Techno.” No reaction. 

“Techno, come on man you gotta get up now! It’s over Techno, you won the fight!”

“Techno!” The glazed look in his eyes began to clear, and he looked up at Wilbur. 

“Wilbur.” He let out a sigh of relief. 

“Techno what’s going on! I’ve been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes!” He hadn’t meant to shout, but the growing concern he felt for the demon was clawing at his nerves. Before Technoblade could respond to him, the foggy look in his eyes returned, and he suddenly collapsed. 

“Shit!” He caught Technoblade by the shoulders before he could slam into the floor and pushed him back into a sitting position. He slumped forward, and Wilbur made sure to avoid contact with the blood still dripping down his face. Flashes of the Demon King’s screeches of terror and burning skin came to mind unbidden, and he shoved them down. Pulling Technoblade into a leaning position like he saw the other demon do to his friend, he left the room. He didn’t want to risk leaving him alone especially without knowing who or what else lurked in the castle, but it seemed like he wouldn’t have a choice. 

Eventually, he found a room stocked to the brim with medical supplies. Shelves and boxes of bandages, gauze, creams, special thread for stitches, and even, much to his shock, a tiny basket full of potions. Wilbur practically grabbed one of everything in the room, cramming as much of it into his arms as he could, before making his way back to his friend.

Of course, when he returned he realized that he had little to no idea how to use half of the items he’d brought, and the effects of the potions were completely unknown to him. Still, he did what he could to help heal the cuts, though it very quickly became clear that some of them would leave scars. In particular, the three claw marks reaching up from his upper lip to his eyebrow. That night as he left the castle, he could feel eyes on him. He decided to teleport to the outcrop, quickly hauling their belongings into his arms and teleporting away.

The castle seemed to remain empty for the next few days, but Wilbur still felt as if someone’s gaze was crawling on his neck. It wasn’t until he spotted demons flitting through the corridors, stocking kitchens, guarding vaults, keeping watch along the walls. He realized the empty castle when they first arrived, was them knowing that they would be here. That they had expected Techno and Wilbur. These were demons serving the current King, which now was Techno.

Technoblade still hadn’t woken up for more than a few semi-conscious minutes, though his wounds had all begun to heal and close up. On multiple occasions Wilbur had watched demons try to enter the room, quickly slamming the door on them with a glare. They hadn’t done anything wrong yet, but trusting easily was a fool’s move. Wilbur was organizing some of their belongings now that he had retrieved all their bags when Techno woke up again. The pink-haired demon looked around, disoriented and confused. 

“Wilbur? What’s going on?” Wilbur switched his attention to Techno, who was pulling himself up into a sitting position on the bed, scanning his surroundings as he did so. 

“You’re awake! Finally, you’ve been asleep ever since you won your fight against Dream, which by the way, what in the world was up with that man?” Wilbur stared at Techno, insistent on receiving answers. Recognition slowly began to fill the other's eyes until he looked back at Wilbur. 

“When I had Dream pinned down, all of a sudden I heard these voices. Out of nowhere all I hear is a bunch of screaming, and I suppose I blanked out or something, you know, it’s not important or anything, really.” Techno was clearly deflecting, but just as Wilbur was about to confront him on it, he beat him to the chase. “Speaking of Dream, I’ll admit my memory of the end of the fight is a bit foggy. I know I beat him, Technoblade never dies you know but…” Wilbur leaned against the wall, thinking back to the night, and wondering how best to explain it. He grabbed a small handheld mirror from his bag and handed it to the demon. 

Wilbur clocked the moment the new scars spanning across Technoblade’s face registered for him. The demon’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and they cautiously felt the surrounding skin.

“After you pinned Dream down, he slashed you across the face with his claws. I guess that was the moment those voices you talked about came because you sorta just stood there over him. Your blood fell onto his face and began to burn it.” Screams faintly sounded in his ears. “It was pretty gruesome. That other demon and I sorta pulled you two apart and they left. I haven’t seen them since.” He summarized. 

“Uh. Well then, alright. I guess my brain was more scrambled by the voices than I thought.” He chuckled nervously. He had seen the effects his blood could have on demons, and he tried to avoid imagining what Dream’s face could look like now if he had been subjected to the blood for so long. Wilbur picked up on his unease and changed the subject.

“You said something about hearing voices. Elaborate on that.” The voices seemed to grow louder when they were mentioned.

“I mean, there isn’t really all that much to explain. Once I had Dream pinned down, I immediately heard voices in my head. They were screaming things at me and I started to get overwhelmed. The thing is, they didn’t go away. I still hear them right now.” A new voice interjected.

“Those voices are the mark of the Demon King.” Technoblade and Wilbur both scrambled to find the stranger. Stood in the doorway was a demon, one Wilbur had spotted earlier in the hallway. 

“Elaborate on that won’t you?” Techno asked. “Wait a minute, who even are you?”

The demon shrugged, cleaning a pair of strange glasses with their shirt, putting them on to reveal two different colored lenses, one blue and the other red.

“You can call me Jack Manifold, most do. I’m one of the Demon King’s followers.” Their voice became more sarcastic as they spoke. “Which is just a fancy way of saying I’m here because I know how to fight, but aren’t interested in being the Demon King and want to get paid.”

“Alright then Jack Manifold, mind continuing your explanation?” Jack sighed.

“Those voices you said you were hearing was the official transfer of power between King Dream to you. The moment you had him pinned down the battle was decided, and you were crowned King. I don’t care too much about the whole magical aspect of all this stuff, but I do know more. Maybe if you cough up some more gold, I’ll be willing to share more with you.” Wilbur stared at him, unimpressed. 

“Didn’t you just say you were a follower of the Demon King? If I’m the Demon King now, I have the right to know without having to pay you. Couldn’t I just ask someone else anyway?” 

“Listen, the whole follower thing is just a title. You both know just as well as me how things work, so don’t start playing dumb. Hand over the gold, pal.” Grudgingly, both demons shared a look and handed over some of their savings. Given that Techno was now the king, it didn’t seem like they would be having money problems anytime soon either way. Jack smiled.

“Pleasure doing business with you. Like I was saying, the throne and the crown are just little trinkets or trophies. They hardly signify anything, what really matters is the voices. It’s a collection of a fragment or wisp of each of the past demon kings. There’s some sort of enchantment or curse, some magic shit that allows them to recognize who the Demon King is, so hearing them confirms your claim to the throne. I’m not really sure what their purpose is, but they differ with each king so, beyond that, I can’t tell you much.” 

Wilbur frowns. He thinks it’s a fair reaction to be skeptical to this, but Technoblade seems to weigh over the information, tugging his hair out of the ruined braid it had been in to rebraid the strands absent-mindedly. Eventually, he nods and looks back at Jack Manifold.

“You should tell your friend over there to stop throwing a hissy fit every time someone enters the room. It’s our job to serve you, so he’s kinda getting in the way.” He sighs. “I mean, it’s not as if we aren’t used to it, what with Sapnap and Dream before, but it does get a bit tiresome.” Wilbur feels a strike of irritation run through him as he’s addressed off-handly, as though he isn’t in the room listening to them speak. 

“There is no harm in trying to keep my friend safe from a bunch of strangers while he’s injured.” Wilbur snarls. Jack Manifold looks over at him, evaluating him before shrugging. 

“Fair enough. Well, I’m just here to pass along the message. I’m sure some others will be coming soon once you’re in a better state to explain more about your kingship. ‘Till then.” With that Jack Manifold left the room.

Wilbur stands to the sidelines for the next week and watches as Technoblade heals. Demons enter the room and lead them around the castle. Explanations of newfound powers, abilities, threats, and precautions that need to be considered. 

Wilbur hadn’t known until now just how much the Demon King actually played a role in the Underworld. Most assumed they were simply a figurehead, a title for a stash of wealth hidden away in the castle that many died attempting to have. 

But Technoblade was handed documents upon documents, old texts filled to the brim with records and history, everything previous kings had worked on or towards, and given the choice on what to do.

It was a strange combination of freedom and security to do practically anything. Yet be responsible for what kept the fragile stability that villages, trading centers, and arenas provided the underworld. If Technoblade truly wanted to, he could ignore them completely, and turn Hell into whatever kind of catastrophe imaginable. 

Late nights were spent pouring over volumes in a room lit only by candlelight as Wilbur strummed his guitar in the background.

“It’s getting a bit late, Techno,” He mentioned after he watched the pink-haired man hold his head in his hands for the third time that hour. Setting aside the instrument, he walked over to the cluttered desk. Piles of scrolls, empty ink bottles, and broken pens from Techno scribbling notes in the margins for hours on end covered the surface. Techno looked up at him, and for a moment, Wilbur felt terror strike through him. A malice that he hadn’t felt directed towards him in ages filled those eyes for the briefest of time. It quickly vanished leaving Wilbur to wonder whether he had imagined it. 

“I’m fine, Wilbur. I’m just a bit tired, that’s all. Why don’t you head out since I’ll be here for a little longer.” Wilbur frowned. 

“Techno this isn’t healthy. You can’t work yourself to the bone and expect to be fine. You’re the king now, you did all this work so that stressing out like this would be a thing of the past! Why are you doing this to yourself?” 

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, Wilbur, since you’re clearing forgetting who is the King here and who is not!” Techno snapped. Immediately, his face twisted in remorse. 

“I—Wil-Wilbur I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry, you didn’t say anything worth that sort of response on my part. I’ve just been really stressed lately. I’m sorry.” Wilbur sighed. He wasn’t about to fault Technoblade. He knew that he was being genuine, and it only helped to prove his point. 

“It’s fine Techno. Let’s just go get some rest, alright? You’ll be much more clear-headed tomorrow after some sleep. Then you can return to your boring paperwork.” 

“...yeah, yeah you’re right.” 

“Of course I am. Come on.”

The tension lingered in the morning, and Wilbur proceeded to pretend not to notice how Techno’s eyebags were only growing darker. 

\----------------

Months passed as Wilbur observed his friend grow worse and worse.

Nobody else seemed to pick up on it. And why would they, he reasoned. They don’t care. They don’t know him any other way. It’s only me. Wilbur felt conflicted. Even if he did decide to confront Technoblade about his growing worry for him, for the negative change he had undergone over the past few months during his kingship, he didn’t have the slightest clue how to bring it up. 

Was it really his place to bring it up? Technoblade had achieved what every demon could only dream of and had Wilbur stick by him without complaint. He could just be overreacting. So what if he didn’t recognize the person Techno had become. They weren’t obligated to remain the same, stagnant forevermore. Change was good...wasn’t it?

This was supposed to be a good development. So why did it feel like neither of them were happier? Sure, fancy titles, permanent shelter, and riches were all at their fingertips now. But the lonely nights he had forgotten about, the growing weight on Techno’s shoulders, the bloodshed they thought they could leave behind remaining—Wilbur wished everything could be a little simpler. 

These thoughts plagued his mind as Wilbur crept down the dark corridor, the warm stone walls guiding him through the fortress. He tugged his trenchcoat tighter around him and lifted the lantern to light his way. The servants had almost all disappeared, so he wandered the castle alone. 

He had taken to exploring the massive structure long ago after he had stumbled upon one of many secret passageways. It wasn’t exactly surprising, and his teleportation made it easy to escape from, so the unexpected blunder hadn’t caused any harm. But what it caused a growing curiosity in him, about the secrets hidden in the walls of the castle, of its history and its tunnels. 

So on the nights where the silence felt deafening, and the urge to roam took over, he traversed the ancient hallways. The demons that wandered the castle during the day disappeared during the night, so it was him alone. Once he had invited Techno to join him, hoping to use the time to reconnect their friendship. But the demon had been in the practice room, a pile of mutilated dummies piled against the wall. 

_(Technoblade gouged a deep cut in the demon’s arm with his sword, her shrieks filling the air. It was the fourth demon to arrive during Technoblade’s kingship as a challenger, so Wilbur was used to how it would go._

_The night before, one of the demons would inform them in advance of a challenger. In the morning, the halls would all be empty, and Technoblade would retreat into his room to prepare. By that, Wilbur knew it was actually to deal with how the voices would begin to act out, making Techno’s already loose grip on them falter and slip._

_Techno didn’t tend to confide about the voices. Wilbur knew very little beyond what he had learned during those first two weeks. And from the point onward, all he had learned was that they were, according to Techno, loud and obnoxious. He knew that they demanded things from him, and with how Techno disappeared before each brawl, Wilbur suspected that it had to do with violence._

_When Techno reappeared, Wilbur would go with him to the throne room and await the demon. Then, Wilbur would watch as Techno lead them to The Pit, or what he had taken to calling the arena room. He usually didn’t concern himself much with the course of the battle. He had seen enough of Technoblade’s battles to be confident in both Technoblade himself, as well as how the course of the battle would go._

_Techno would attempt to make the starting move and usually succeed in doing so. He would make use of his sword during the first half, and make out an idea of the other demon’s ability and how to counter it. He’d use his fallen blood to burn the opponent, at first in a way that made it unclear what exactly had caused the burns. And then when he had them pinned under, he’d make them admit defeat._

_So he watched the current battle lazily as Techno gained the upper hand and used his sword to deepen a cut in his palm that the demon had made earlier in the fight, letting the blood fall onto her shoulder. She writhed in agony from the acidic blood eating away at her skin and leaving blisters and red, irritated skin. Wilbur waited for him to call out asking for the demon to admit defeat, but he didn’t. He simply stood over the woman, the blood still flowing from his palm and cascading down._

_He was painfully reminded of the battle Techno had fought against Dream, of how at the overwhelming thunder of the voices arriving, Technoblade had remained there motionless, even as the ear-piercing cries of Dream having his face burned beneath him echoed through the room._

_“Hey! You give up, right? You admit defeat?” He shouted, addressing the woman. He watched her grit her teeth as more blood fell onto her collarbone._

_“Yes! Yes, I resign, let me go!” Wilbur waited for a few seconds for Techno to react, before taking matters into his own hands. Teleporting down into the pit, he carefully pulled Techno off of the demon as he had with Dream. She shakily pushed herself away, and onto her feet. Wilbur watched as she left the room, a trail of blood left behind her. Then he turned his attention back on Techno._

_Wilbur glimpsed Techno’s eyes up close. He expected them to be clouded, glassy, and unaware as they had been the last time this occurred. A swirling cacophony of bloodlust and unquenched thirst for violence-filled them instead. Wilbur felt a chill run down his spine._

_Techno enjoyed fighting, he knew that. But there was a difference between the violence that Wilbur had become accustomed to with Techno, and the one that he seemed to crave now, of suffering and agony. It was wild and unrestrained, ill-fitting in comparison to Techno’s usually ruthless, yes, but calculated and controlled ferocity. He blinked and Techno’s eyes reverted to normal._

_“Are you alright? Was it the voices again?” Techno stiffly pushed past him._

_“It’s fine. I’m going to return to my work.”_

_“Techno wait—!” but the man had already left the room. Wilbur stood there alone in a room of bloodshed that wasn’t his.)_

Blinking away the memory, Wilbur found himself in that very same arena room. He set down the lantern beside the railings and climbed down into the fighting area. It had been a long time since that battle. Somedays Wilbur thought that the issue had vanished, the other, he worried that the moment the demon left the castle, soaked in blood, they would kneel over and die. Lately, he had even followed one or two of the demons out. 

His own behavior caught many by surprise. It was unusual to display such concern for mere strangers. But he was one of the few demons in Hell who wasn’t constantly clawing their way through life, towards power, strength, and safety. So why should he have to disregard others?

Now that he thought about it, Wilbur realized he didn’t know where Dream and his friend ran off to. It certainly hadn’t been in the direction of the castle’s main entranceway, like most of the beaten competitors did. No, they had run off into a hallway off to the right side of the room. 

The long hallways of the fortress shifted between glowing yellow light and shadows as Wilbur held the lantern in front of him. He recognized most of the rooms, mostly empty except for tables and chairs, and tapestries so old and uncared for that they had begun unraveling. 

Most of what the castle contained was falling apart at the seams, to be fair. It looked as though no king had cared enough about the castle itself for generations, so it was clear when something was more recent. A statue depicting a demon holding a scepter, gold and jewels embedded into the stone, a wall-to-wall large map of the Underworld, and a chalice that never seemed to come into contact with dust like so much of the uninhabited areas of the castle did were just a few of what Wilbur had noticed were new additions. New at least, in terms of the castle, which could mean all of those objects were anywhere from months to decades old. 

Months of living in the castle had led Wilbur to recognize many of its secrets, however, some still evaded him. Which is what led him to scour the shelves of the library, dusting off books covers and scrolls, lifting plant pots and ornate decorations, even looking beneath a skull thrust in between some of the books in search of...well anything really. If Wilbur was, to be honest, he wasn’t completely sure.

Specks of dust floated in the air, visible from the large window in front of him. Dark panes of tinted glass through which Wilbur could see the walls of the fortress, the crags, and cliffs, the waterfall of lava cascading down into the moat. He stayed there for a while, peering through various library windows, before climbing out onto a balcony. He stared up at the ceiling of the Underworld, glowing blossoms on crawling vines that descended down the walls and stalactites lighting the roof with specks of a warm glow. Rusted wrought iron railings were planted along the edge, but Wilbur leaned over them carelessly. A sense of recklessness came over him, the slow clawing at his soul finally pushing him towards the path of exhilaration, elation, and thrill. 

So he climbed onto the railings, and let himself teeter backward until his feet were hardly holding on. He wasn’t too worried about his safety. It would be quite easy to teleport away, especially with how much time it would take for him to hit the ground at this height. He was seriously considering leaping just for the adrenaline spike when something piqued his interest.

Amongst the many floors, roofs, and towers of the fortress, some even reached past the stalactites that hung from the roof of Hell. All of these towers were unobstructed, though Wilbur could attest that some were certainly not safe, being reminded of at least one time when a step had nearly crumbled beneath his weight whilst he climbed up to the belfry. And yet in the corner of the castle, where the mountain walls were so close that the distance between the windows and the slope was hardly wide enough for a demon to pass through. It was a section of the castle that nobody, not even the servants spent much time in. 

However, from his perch, Wilbur could see the formation of a tower that seemed to be built into the mountain, its upper half disappearing before it would have even been visible from the entrance. Static rang in his ears and his form began to glitch. He rematerialized on the roof, a hand trailing along the dark stone bricks forming the tower. 

_It’s windowless. I’ll have to try and teleport onto the floor below then._

So Wilbur did just that, yet he was greeted by an empty wall. Well, empty except for a large woven tapestry that hung from the wall. It depicted on it the three realms. At the bottom, in a palette of reds, oranges, browns, and blacks, was the underworld. The ceiling transitioned to dull green, evidently Earth, with forests and miniature figures. The clouds of Earth’s sky clustered together at the top of the tapestry to form the last realm, Heaven. It was white and silver, with a sky made of blue so bright Wilbur hadn’t realized it could be replicated through thread. It was definitely not made down here then. 

He stood there, trying to make out any clues from the tapestry before moving on. The hallway was empty, some tables and lanterns that were so clearly neglected that some of the flames were on the verge of dying out. Pushing aside the tapestry, Wilbur inspected the wall behind it. Pushing against bricks, feeling for buttons of crags in the rock, even looking for loose tiles in the floor, he found nothing. He was beginning to grow frustrated since it was clear that something was hidden there, but he couldn’t access it. 

He banged his fist against the wall, half in irritation and half in the blind hope that it would dislodge something that would help him when his fist sunk deeper into the wall. The brick he had slammed his fist against had been pushed back into the wall. Immediately, he began to survey it, when he noticed that it was a brick slightly darker than some of the others. He hadn’t noticed down to the broken-down state of the area, but some of the bricks were in fact different. Behind the tapestry in specific, there were five. Soon Wilbur has pushed all of the outliers, waiting for some sort of reaction. Then, a hardly noticeable clicking noise began, and the bricks behind the tapestry moved aside. 

Within seconds, a passageway had opened, and Wilbur began climbing up the tower with satisfaction. But then it just kept going. The stairs kept spiraling upwards, and the air grew colder and colder. Suddenly he wished that his sweater kept in the warmth a little better, and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat, pulling it closer around him. 

A hum filled his ears, which grew louder as he went higher and higher. His feet protested, feeling sore and tired, but he ignored them in pursuit of reaching the end of the...could it be described as a tunnel? The stairs were sloping away into a carved out slope, so it sounded like the right term. Then a breeze filtered through the tunnel, ruffling his hair, and Wilbur began to notice the vegetation on the walls.

“...green.” He whispered in shock. The plants in Hell were never green, and the color itself was only found in abundance in one realm—Earth. The mouth of the tunnel was in his sight, and Wilbur, slack-jawed and shivering stood at the exit. He pushed away from the mass amounts of vines growing down the front, effectively hiding it from view if you weren’t looking for it. Sprawling tree roots extended from massive tree trunks. Some of the trees were leafless, while others of a darker shade of green weren’t.

“Holy shit,” Wilbur exclaimed. Passageways as intact as the one he had found were quite frankly, non-existent in the Underworld. Demons who risked the wrath of Guardian Angels and the general threats lurking on the surface had very few options when leaving Hell. The most common one? Passageways, either those constructed in earlier times during more stable reigns or those naturally formed to ensure balance and connection between the realms. However like everything in Hell, it quickly turned to control and violence, and demons fought one another for control over a passageway. 

To command authority over a passageway put a demon in more power than even the top arena fighters. They could demand anything from a demon wishing to use their passage, or refuse them outright. Demons would try to appeal and bribe their way to the Overworld, or they would forcibly attempt to take control. Quickly passageways became just another sight of bloodshed in the Underworld. 

Wilbur had to keep this hidden. There was a reason why this was still intact, and it was because that secret had not been shared. This was an ace up Wilbur’s sleeve, a hidden play he could reveal to no one. He was halfway down the stairwell, brain still buzzing in a frenzy of plans and thoughts when he realized. 

Technoblade.

_No, no, surely I can tell Technoblade. If I can’t tell him then… Wilbur ran his hand through his hair nervously. Then I can’t tell anyone, can I? I have no one else. Besides, we’re friends. He’s the King for fucks sake, it’s literally his castle! Of course, I’ll tell him. Wilbur assured himself._

_(Crimson eyes, splatters of blood against the ground—ear-piercing screeches that shatter the air, an empty stare that haunted him—bruised and bloody knuckles, darkening eye bags, hoarse whispers that were meant to stay unheard—)_

Shit. Can he trust Techno?

\----------------

**Blood for the Blood God  
Blood for the Blood God  
Blood for the Blood God  
Blood for the Blood God  
Kill  
Strike  
Weakling—**

“Shut up, shut up, shut up—” Techno clutched his head in a futile attempt to stop the pounding. The voices, or chat, as he had taken to calling them, ignore his protests, instead growing louder. He’s curled up in a shadowy alcove, having stumbled out of the library. He feels himself losing control, the voices influencing him. He can’t make out his own thoughts amongst the drowning noise, he can’t keep his head above the water. He’s sinking deeper and deeper, a desperate hand reaching out for help, only to be left alone. 

**Blood for the Blood God  
Blood for the Blood God  
Blood for the Blood God**

He can’t think properly—when had the voices become so deafening?

**Blood for the Blood God  
Blood for the Blood God  
Blood for the Blood God**

They hadn’t been like this when he first gained control. He hadn’t wanted to admit to them spiraling out of control.

**Blood for the Blood God  
Blood for the Blood God  
Blood for the Blood God**

But now he was paying the price. He needs to soothe the voices, to satiate their bloodlust. He needs bloodshed. 

**Blood for the Blood God  
Blood for the Blood God  
Blood for the Blood God**

“Techno?” 

**Blood for the Blood God  
Blood for the Blood God  
Blood for the Blood God**

“Are you okay?”

**Kill him.  
Kill him.  
Let his blood soak the floor.  
Let his screams pierce the air.**

Wilbur is staring at him in concern, and Techno can see him repress a flinch when they make eye contact. 

“...Techno?”

His sword is gripped tightly in his hand, having left from its place in the sheath on his hip unnoticed. Wilbur takes a cautious step backward. 

**Blood for the Blood God.**

Techno swings the sword at Wilbur’s neck, who stumbles backward and teleports to the other end of the hallway. The blade carves a deep mark into the pillar behind where Wilbur once stood. Techno adjusts his step and rushes Wilbur, who is shouting something that his ears don’t register. The other demon is teleporting away and dodging before Techno watches his gaze flicker to the doorway.

**Don’t let him escape  
Blood must be shed  
Blood for the Blood God**

Wilbur teleports away and begins sprinting down the hallway, but Techno is already on his tail. His mind is consumed by the demands of the voices, and he watches as Wilbur throws a glance over his shoulder, before muttering a curse and making a sharp turn down the hallway. When Techno catches up, the demon has gone.

**Teleported  
Nearby  
Find him  
Find him.  
Find him. **

So Techno stalks down the hallway, examining shadowy corners and alcoves in the wall that the haunting light that filters through the windows fails to illuminate. His footsteps echo down the hallway, the sound rhythmically filling his ears. He turns the corner and reaches a standstill at the two doorways. 

The sound of muffled footsteps to his left reaches his ears. The windows are adorned with heavy drapes that block out the warm light and sheet-covered furniture. The room is silent, however, his mind is anything but.

The demon lifts the coverings to peer beneath the tables and stools and is making his way closer to the back of the room when the sound of something in the hallway catches his attention. He picks up speed and enters the hallway once more, to see the remnants of teleportation particles, the glitch visual that signaled Wilbur’s teleportation. 

**Blood for the Blood God.**

Muffled breathing resounds from further down the hallway. The breathing silences, but Techno has already located Wilbur. Closer and closer, he approaches the pillar. A shuffle and he unsheathes his sword. 

**Blood for the Blood God.**

Techno stares down at the form of Wilbur. He’s curled into the corner, feet, and tail tucked in close around him. In his hassle to escape, more hair has obscured his face, and his hands are clamped firmly over his mouth. 

**Blood for the Blood God.**

_(No, stop, he doesn’t want this)_

A hoarse plea. 

_(Run, run, run, why won’t he run away—)_

His sword is being pulled back in preparation for a swing, and Wilbur scrambles to his feet and teleports down the hallway. He stumbles over his own feet, but Techno hasn’t been caught off guard, and is already in pursuit, gaining on the other demon every second. 

Techno swings at Wilbur’s feet and hits his target. A shallow cut in Wilbur’s calf opens up and he stumbles down, landing on the floor. His gaze is full of fear as he stares up at Technoblade.

He is forcefully reminded of a different fearful gaze, before his own blood burned it away, alongside half of his face.

_(I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry—)_

The sword strikes down. A heart-wrenching scream shatters the air. 

Techno is snapped back to his own mind, the voice's control over him broken.

But it’s too late.

Wilbur is lying on the ground. Blood pools around him, his hand limply twitching. His face is twisted in pain but his scream of pain has been cut short. His golden sweater sports a gash, the wound stretching from Wilbur’s the top of his stomach to his side. 

Eyes once red with an unrestrained desire for violence and bloodshed have turned horrified. The sword clatters to the ground. A guttural whisper. 

“What have I done?” 

The blood stains his hands. The voices remain silent. It’s quieter than Techno has experienced for months. It’s shattered when he hears the rattle of Wilbur’s breathing. 

He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive. The words rattle around through his mind, a glimmer of hope. He forcibly pulls himself from his spiral. He can’t let Wilbur die. 

He can’t risk opening the wound further, so he can’t move Wilbur from his spot on the ground. He needs to stop the bleeding immediately, or he won’t have enough time before the blood loss reaches fatal quantities. But Techno doesn’t have anything. The cape that he wore from time to time he luckily chose to wear today, so he pulled the velvety cloak off of his shoulders, holding it firmly to the wound. Wilbur’s glazed over eyes gleam with consciousness, and a short scream is heard before it cuts itself off. 

Techno reminds himself that it’s good, that Wilbur needs to remain conscious. But the fact of the matter is that he’s the one that did this. The fabric has quickly grown a burgundy color from the blood, bright scarlet red turning dark. Getting proper medical supplies to Wilbur is more important, he thinks, so he lets go of the cape and sprints down the hallway. He’s spent enough time in the castle to know that there must be a supply room or infirmary nearby. Every second feels too long, and Wilbur’s condition weighs heavily on his shoulders. 

_There!_ Techno spots the medical room. He brushes out pink hair from his face and begins snatching bandages, gauze, needle and thread, and clean rags. He spots glimmering potions, small and not enough to do much more than numb the pain, but he grabs them anyway. At the last moment, he searches for some kind of disinfectant, but he’s wasted too much time already and grabs a canteen of water instead, hoping the wound has remained clean enough that this will be enough to prevent any infection. 

He’s running down the hallway, agonizing worry clawing at his mind. He wishes that he could teleport like Wilbur, so he could be by his friend’s side in the blink of an eye.

He skids to a stop and turns to the left, Wilbur’s form coming into view. His mind is overwhelmed with panic before he spots the shallow rise and fall of Wilbur’s chest. He’s holding on, if just barely, so Techno sets to work. Quickly using the rags to press down on the wound again, he waits for them to soak up the blood, though it seems there isn’t much left to do so. He’s removed the ruined sweater to gain a clear view of the wound and unscrews the canteen with shaky hands. He pours the water onto the wound, washing away dried blood before he threads the string through the needle. He’s inexperienced with stitches, but he knows enough, so he goes about carefully suturing the wound. 

When he’s finished, he glances up and lets out a shaky breath of relief. Wilbur’s still breathing, even if the state of it hasn’t improved. He wraps the bandages around the room and secures the stitches. The potions remain cast to the side, so he lifts Wilbur’s head, and carefully tilts the potion so the demon consumes the potion without issue. 

He can’t tell whether the potion truly did the job, so all he can do is hope that Wilbur’s pain has lessened. Picking up Wilbur gingerly in his arms, he travels into a spare bedroom. Wilbur’s fallen unconscious, so Techno waits by his bedside in apprehension. Routinely changing the bandages and giving Wilbur potions, Techno sits there for three nights on end. 

In the back of his mind, he notices that when he leaves the supply cabinet, the servants have been stocking it with more supplies each time. He knows they hardly care and are just doing their job, but Techno feels a bit of gratitude each time he returns to Wilbur sooner and with more supplies. 

He’s hardly awake at this point, the stress that kept him awake for so long having reached the end of high. His eyes are closing against his will, so Techno forces them open. He can’t fall asleep now, Wilbur could need him, Wilbur could die and he wouldn’t know—his eyes flutter back open with tremendous effort. 

He finally crashes, and is out like a light, slumped over in his chair, bandages still gripped tightly in his palm. 

He wakes up hours later, first tired and irritated, before the events of the past few days return to him. He’s immediately on his feet, berating himself for succumbing to exhaustion. 

_Wilbur._

He turns to look at the demon and finds him on the brink of waking, face scrunched up in pain. Techno looks to the collection of potions to find a healing one to give him, before twisting to find himself face to face with Wilbur, eyes blinking open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It wouldn't be Technoblade if he couldn't hear chat, am i right? 
> 
> This was a really long chapter, at least in comparison to some of the other chapters, and I've had it in the work for some time. I'm honestly pretty happy with how it turned out, and this is another big turning point for Wilbur and Techno in the fic. Also Jack Manifold ayyeeeeeeeee. He's pretty cool, so I was like, need a character for this, might as well pick someone from the SMP who can do it. Also holy shit Ranboo's been doing incredible this past week, today especially! It's not relevant at all to the fic but I'm just so happy for him :D
> 
> Now since I'm bored, I might as well let you all know that a new character will be introduced either in the next chapter or the chapter after that...
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed reading and if you did, then maybe consider leaving some kudos! :)


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